


Nine Lives

by RoboticNebula



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions of grief, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Laurence/amnesia in all its forms, M/M, Nightmares, Resurrection, Space Dragons!, Temeraire learns to cope with grief, Temporary Character Death, an excuse to write Temeraire through the ages, and various other historical aus, asexual Laurence (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboticNebula/pseuds/RoboticNebula
Summary: Temeraire panics at the prospect of Laurence dying and accidentally acquires him nine lives. It comes with unexpected consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short fic, of small drabbles of my boys during different time periods. It got away from me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

-ONE-

Their transport was hit by a storm halfway through their journey back from China. The weather went sour so suddenly they barely had time to secure the storm chains properly before Laurence and Tharkay were forced to make their way into the protective curl of Temeraire’s wing, braced against one another as the wind and the rain threatened to throw them overboard. Laurence took some time to settle himself, fidgeting with his oilskin and throwing worried glances at the activity on deck until Tharkay caught him by the elbow and pulled him down next to him.

“Come now, Will,” he said, laughing, “You’re no longer fit to go climbing around on deck in this weather.”

At the time, Temeraire had been happy to agree with Tharkay and quite pleased when Laurence had finally settled down with minimal protests. It was only later, when the storm calmed and the two men stayed put, still dozing instead of jumping back to their feet, that Temeraire was hit with an uncomfortable realisation.

For a human, Laurence was getting old.

Temeraire knew, of course, what was happening. Every dragon with a captain knew this was how it would end, but he had never allowed himself to consider what life would be like after Laurence. Yet, there was no more denying it: for the rest of the voyage he couldn’t help but notice all the signs. Laurence had gotten slower, he frequently had to pause to catch his breath, he had many more lines upon his face if he looked closely, and his hair was thinner and whiter. By the time they reached England, Temeraire was possessed with a sense of urgency.

Asking the other dragons for advice was useless. No, he most certainly did not want a replacement, as if anyone could ever replace Laurence. Although Tharkay could have lived up to task, he supposed, but the man was just as old and too prone to wandering besides. He also couldn’t stand the thought of remaining on his own. Even if his and Perscitia’s efforts meant he would be free to do as he wished – even return to China – his pain when he believed Laurence dead on the Goliath was still too keenly remembered and he simply could not imagine living the remainder of his life with it.

The problem tormented him enough that he even confided in Iskierka who, it pained Temeraire to admit, was the one to come up with a perfectly sensible solution.

“No, I can’t make him immortal,” snorted the witch-dragon, derisively.

Temeraire’s ruff flattened on his neck, eyes squinting at her. _Of course_ Iskierka’s lead would be just stuff.

“Then why ever would you claim to have a solution to my problem? You’re wasting my time!”

She flicked her tail, dismissive of his complaint, her numerous golden jewels chiming tauntingly with the motion. “No, I can’t make him immortal,” she repeated “but for the right price… I can give him nine lives.”

Temeraire sat back on his haunches. Well, that certainly sounded interesting, but a voice which sounded oddly like Laurence reminded him not to act without all the information. Trying to hide his interest, he pressed her for further details.

“Nine lives for all of which you get to be with your companion and he with you. You won’t remain a single day on your own,” she insisted.

A perfectly satisfying solution, really. After some more arguing they brokered a price, Temeraire quickly getting exasperated with her extravagant demands but also very willing to spend all his fortune if he had to – not that _she_ needed to know that.

When they agreed, the witch-dragon still demanded a lock of hair from Laurence, which Temeraire convinced Tharkay to acquire for him by spinning a story about preparing a present. He felt slightly guilty for lying but felt it was necessary lest the man made his perfectly reasonable plan sound unreasonable, as he was also prone to do.

Finally, after some more chanting and a lot of smoke that made Temeraire sneeze, the witch handed him a silver amulet studded with blue diamonds which was very handsome indeed.

“Give him this so he can bank his lives,” she waited for him to exit her lair before quickly adding, “I’m sure you’ll be satisfied despite the collateral. This isn’t an exact science after all,” and promptly disappeared with her payment.

Her lack of manners had been so atrocious, Temeraire was glad to see her go.

That very evening, he gave Laurence the amulet when he joined him for their reading time and, because it felt too much like lying otherwise, he admitted “I got you nine lives, so you don’t need to worry about dying.”

Tharkay, who was laying a few feet away, smirked in contained laughter, eyes crinkling fondly when he turned to look at them. Laurence merely regarded him sceptically, as he always did when it came to what he considered to be mere superstitions, but pocketed the gift with a happy smile. He stepped into Temeraire’s encircling forearms and leaned against his bulk, caressing the warm hide.

“Are you quite alright, my dear?” He asked, “you have been awfully quiet lately”.

Temeraire curled more tightly about him and sighed.

“I am fine, do not worry yourself, Laurence,” he said. This _was_ true, now that he had a solution, “what have you brought us to read?”

The incident was quite forgotten for the next few years, until one day when Laurence, curled up in his usual spot on Temeraire’s foreleg, didn’t wake up, no matter how much he tried to nudge him. Miserable, Temeraire burrowed himself closer to the ground and kept him as close to him as possible. He refused to move all morning, until Tharkay gently coaxed him into letting him approach, his usual manners oddly faded, and covered Laurence’s face with a white sheet.

“But I bought him nine lives,” Temeraire protested weakly, claws digging into the nice stone of his pavilion.

Tenzing made no reply but placed a hand on his muzzle. In his stiff posture, the clench of his jaw and the roughness of his gaze Temeraire recognised the same grief as his and over the next few sleepless days he was the only one whom Temeraire allowed to keep him company.

They went together on a flight to scatter Laurence’s ashes over the sea and Tenzing was right next to him when Temeraire’s exhaustion finally won him over and he fell into a deep sleep.

He dreamt of his first moments out of the shell. The salt in the air, the cloudless sky, the wind and above all the sound of a firm voice, the fair hair and the blue eyes, when he had known –

_This one is mine_

-TWO- 

Temeraire startled awake to a soft touch on his nose, and the first thing he noticed were two blue eyes looking at him in awe. A boy, perhaps about Emily Roland’s age when they first met, was standing before him, a hand outstretched and lightly touching his muzzle, the other clutching a small toy ship. He was neatly dressed with vest, trousers and neck cloth but his hair was tied in a messy queue and his cheeks were flushed with excitement.

Temeraire felt a pang of distress at the sight and closed his eyes again with a heavy sigh. The boy looked so much like Laurence, surely he was seeing ghosts this time. The apparition made little sense to him, he had never met Laurence as a newly hatched human, but he was determined to go back to sleep and forget the world, when the boy spoke up, surprising him. 

“Why are you frowning?”

He lifted his head off the ground, ruff raised. The sound of that voice was instinctively familiar, despite its youthful quality. The boy stepped back, still looking up at him.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

There was no way – 

“What is your name?” asked Temeraire.

“William Laurence, sir,” the boy bowed formally, “how about you?”

Temeraire leaned back down, putting his tongue out to check him over and was unable to resist a soft keen of pleasure when this Laurence reached up again to caress him. Only then did he notice the silver and blue pendant from the dragon-witch tied as a sort of brooch on the neck cloth.

“Laurence,” he whined softly, because there was no doubt about it now, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

He lifted him up and curled himself tightly about him, Laurence sitting back in his talons in his usual manner, completely comfortable.

“It is you, oh Laurence, I am so very happy!”

It took several hours to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream but once the initial dizziness of happiness had somewhat calmed Temeraire spared an irritated thought for the witch dragon. He strongly felt she should have mentioned Laurence would have to die before getting his next life.

He was also disappointed to find out Laurence did not seem to remember anything of his previous life but this, he convinced himself, was a minor detail. Laurence had lost his memory once and got it back, therefore he was already experienced in the matter of memory recovery. That said, Temeraire was very quick to make sure Laurence knew he was his captain to which there was no objection save for one detail.

“Don’t I have to be in the aerial corps to be a dragon captain?”

“Well, yes. I suppose it would be more appropriate to call you my companion, then,” Temeraire amended.

Laurence was happily perched on Temeraire’s foreleg and talking enthusiastically about his day. Having been left to his own devices at home, he had escaped his tutors to go play outside with his ship and followed it downstream which ran across his family’s land. This was how he had come upon Temeraire in this abandoned pavilion and estate –

“Abandoned?” Temeraire interrupted, surprised.

He took Laurence for a flight around what had been Tharkay’s estate, flying slowly so Laurence would not risk losing his grip on the collar of the breastplate. The land and the house were in a state of disrepair. The doors and windows of the main house where Tharkay and Laurence had lived were sealed with wooden planks and all sorts of weeds and wildflower were taking over the grounds. Temeraire noticed with outrage that his pavilion was dirty and even rusting in some places.

“I don’t understand, just yesterday it was still brand new!”

“Father says no one has been here in 20 years, since the last owner’s death,” Laurence said, apologetic, “it’s tied up in some ‘legal purgatory’ so no one has been able to do anything with it.”

All this only added to Temeraire’s confusion. Last night, he had fallen asleep to an estate in perfect order and practically brand new with a splendid pavilion, and now everything had been abandoned for 20 years? He had half a mind to hunt down that witch and stomp on her if she was still alive, but then Laurence led him to a small clearing in the woods, having evidently done some exploring before he found him, and all his anger evaporated.

There were two memorial plaques at the foot of a large tree, just large enough for Temeraire to read the names _William Laurence_ and _Tenzing Tharkay_ inscribed on them. Temeraire clutched this new Laurence closer to him. 

No, no matter the price, he could not bring himself to regret it.

Temeraire immediately took charge of Laurence’s care and education, and being obviously the most qualified to know what was best for Laurence, his parents had not protested. Temeraire was certain that Laurence was an outstanding example of a human hatchling. He had taken to flying with Temeraire and reading to him like a charm. Were all human children like him, Lily would assuredly not have had so many qualms about Harcourt’s hatchling.

Temeraire indulged himself with a few weeks of freedom before deciding Laurence was ready to start training as a captain with the aerial corps. They returned to the Loch Lagan covert and were received with some puzzlement.

“I didn’t think you would want another captain,” said Lily, peering closely at Laurence.

“He is _not_ another captain,” snorted Temeraire, “this _is _Laurence.”

Maximum and Lily seemed perplexed but accepted his explanation without too much protest and Temeraire did not insist any more than he had to. His friends were older and despite being still young for dragons, they looked drawn, their posture slightly slouched and their eyes clouded. They both looked longingly at Laurence, perched on Temeraire’s neck.

Neither had taken another captain. They did not discuss the subject any further.

When Laurence had gone to bed that night, the three piled up together in a tangle of legs, wings and tails in Maximus’ pavilion to catch up. Both were still part of the corps, trainning other dragons and occasionally flying out when their help was needed in the colonies. Temeraire was delighted to learn that many new professions with pay had opened up for dragons but talking to them made him keenly aware of the years that had passed.

“We were worried when you disappeared, you know,” said Lily, “we thought you had done something rash, until your friend Tharkay came over to tell us you had fallen in some sort of deep sleep.”

“We all went to visit” confirmed Maximum “Even Iskierka” he added with a teasing nudge. 

“She probably hoped to wake me up with all her talking," mumbled Temeraire, pleased despite himself, "and how is Granby? Iskierka hasn’t lost him another limb, has she?”

Granby and Iskierka had settled in a small estate near the Dover covert and on their next day of liberty, Temeraire flew Laurence over for a visit. Granby gasped when he saw Temeraire, his eyes immediately finding Laurence’s form at the base of his neck and, when he realised what was happening, burst out with laughter. Laurence had to guide him to a chair so he could sit down and catch his breath.

“What have you gotten yourself into now, Will?” He asked, face split into a wide grin.

“I don’t know that I got myself into anything,” Laurence said, puzzled.

Granby sobered suddenly, looking at Laurence with a strange air of sadness about him and almost automatically, he leaned over to adjust Laurence’s neck cloth, “no… no I don’t suppose you do.”

He looked up at Temeraire, and back at Laurence, “I don’t suppose you expected something of the sort. But what’s done is done.”

He stood up slowly with the help of Laurence and a cane and his bright mood returned. He announced they would go for a stroll and left Temeraire and Iskierka to catch up. Surprisingly, Iskierka stayed silent a full minute as she watched him lead Laurence away, long enough for Temeraire to start fidgeting with uncertainty.

“He hasn’t looked this happy since Augustine died,” she sniffed, finally, “of course, it wasn’t helpful that _you_ just fell asleep after Laurence died and left us all alone.”

Now that was unfair. Granby had plenty of friends and Temeraire had not _deliberately_ chosen to fall asleep and leave everyone behind.

“It was your idea,” he reminded her.

“I did not expect it to work!” she huffed, frustrated, “I overheard Granby tell Laurence that you would need something to help you afterwards. I’m _sure _they were planning something even if Granby assures me they were not. Anyways, when you started getting agitated I felt it was wise to give you something to keep you busy.”

The insinuation that Iskierka had thought _he_ was getting agitated was highly offensive. If someone needed to be kept in check, it was her. He told her as much to which she replied _she _wasn’t the one who had gotten herself into a deep sleep for 20 years, which didn’t even make sense since, by her own admission that had been partly her fault.

They skulked each on their own side for a few heavy seconds before guilt started needling at Temeraire. She had, after all, only been trying to help, no matter how misguided she had been. Besides, Laurence would say this was no way to treat a friend you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Still… I suppose I should thank you. Thanks to you, my Laurence is still with me,” he admitted, quietly.

She clawed at the ground in uncharacteristic shyness. 

“It was terribly boring without you,” she said, not looking at him, rewarding his honesty with some of her own.

Temeraire then made the mistake of inquiring after how she had kept busy which led her on a long brag of all the treasures she had acquired over the years. By the time their captains came back, Laurence still gently guiding Granby by the hand, Temeraire was very much annoyed at Iskierka once more and announced it was time to leave. He did promise to visit, however, for Granby’s sake. The poor man would go insane alone with Iskierka.

With no war in progress, the corps no longer needed them on standby, so they were free to do as they wished outside of training hours. It was odd, living without warfare when it had been his sole purpose for so long. It was lovely. Temeraire was delighted to learn of the recent creations of partnerships between the corps and various universities which allowed dragons and aviators to pursue higher education. When Laurence turned 18 and on Perscitia’s very insistent suggestion, they enrolled at King’s College London.

“It was after all established by my very own Arthur Wellesley, duke of wellington, really I don’t see why you would go anywhere else!”

Laurence signed up for the general course whilst Temeraire elected to take a math course, which quite coincidently was very popular amongst dragons. The classes were easy enough for those who had had the privilege of a formal education growing up, therefore most of their free time was spent at the rowing club.

Temeraire loved perching with the other dragons on the bridges along the Thames to watch Laurence race up and down the river below. He was very proud to say that he hasn’t been kicked out even once for being too competitive. _He_ understood that this was just training and that there was no use getting agitated. Especially since there really is no point in arguing when Laurence’s team would always win.

Besides, very quickly the other dragons started coming up to him, not to debate human rowing capabilities, but instead to discuss his own past. Many recognised him, others had heard of him and as a result he began to build a fan following. It was absolutely delightful; he got to talk to an audience about his life and his policies and on top of that, they had no trouble believing him when he told them Laurence _was _Laurence and not just his namesake.

At first, it was only casual, on the bridges of the Thames or sometimes at the nearest covert over a cow. But word traveled fast in the academic world and soon enough he was invited to actual conferences and panels. Laurence accompanied him to every single one, and for a time Temeraire believed that it was because they triggered a memory or a sense of familiarity. When he asked him about it however, his hopes were quickly dashed. 

“I just love listening to you talk, my dear, you have a fascinating life,” said Laurence.

High praise indeed but not the point.

“But Laurence, it is also your past, surely you remember,” insisted Temeraire.

“There is no need to try and comfort me, Temeraire,” laughed Laurence, “I know heavyweights live for several human lifetimes, and I am not so selfish as to wish I were you sole companion.”

“No, but Laurence, that is not what I mean! You _are _the same William Laurence”.

It didn’t work. Laurence frowned, trying to make sense of what was just said, but eventually changed the subject, pleading a headache. And this – this was a pattern, realised Temeraire. Every time he confronted Laurence directly about his missing memories, he got headaches and the conversation had to end. Temeraire knew Laurence was not faking it, he would never stoop to this kind of dishonesty, so he didn’t understand how that could be.

He tried contacting the dragon witch again, to no avail. She seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth as no one could even tell him if she was deceased or still alive. Temeraire had the sinking feeling that he should have dug deeper before letting her go but an unexpected issue caused him to abruptly end his searches for her.

The first time he mentioned the dragon sickness was at an event debating the nature of crimes committed during warfare. He had come specifically because he wanted to discuss crimes committed against dragons, such as the events of the dragon sickness, but every time he had tried bringing it up, someone had change the subject. Frustrated, he had immediately tried to organise a follow up discussion specifically on this issue but was told that the university would not host such an event and that he should drop the subject.

It was as incomprehensible, as it was shocking, nevertheless he persisted. He finally managed to tell the whole story at a talk about the contribution of ferals during the Napoleonic war. The next morning he was greeted with a court summon telling him he was being sued by the British government for defamation.

“I am sure it’s only a misunderstanding,” said Laurence when Temeraire showed him the letter, “it is a difficult topic after all, someone probably misreported what you said and made it seem like you were lying.”

“But everything I said was the truth! I merely described what happened, I don’t understand how that could have been misinterpreted,” huffed Temeraire.

This gave Laurence a moment of pause and he considered Temeraire and the letter in silence. 

“My dear… the government may not want you to talk about the dragon sickness at all,” he admitted, finally.

“But that is absolutely outrageous! They can’t simply ignore it and ask me to do the same!”

“No,” Laurence shook his head, raising a hand to his foreleg to sooth him “They can’t and we won’t let them. I know someone who may be able to counsel you.”

Of all the people Temeraire expected, it had not been him. Laurence and Temeraire had arrived at their place of meeting where a tall man with dark hair and a moustache was waiting for them and he had instantly seemed familiar. Temeraire had not quite been able to place him until he introduced himself as Louis Napoleon Bonaparte. 

It had been a shock, much like being doused by freezing water. He almost expected Lien to appear as well, bracing himself instinctively over Laurence. A ridiculous fear, he knew. She had died in China not long after the first Bonaparte, having made her way back after Temeraire’s disappearance, but part of Temeraire still shivered uncomfortably at the memory of the threats she had made against him in Istanbul.

He was relieved to find out it wasn’t _the _Napoleon, which quickly became apparent from his… less extravagant manners. He and Laurence shared a class, apparently.

“Laurence never said you were in London,” said Temeraire. 

Perhaps he should have expected it, considering Laurence's propensity for attracting French royalty. However, he hadn’t considered the possibility of bumping into old adversaries and how Laurence’s lack of memories made him vulnerable. The though made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“No,” Napoleon smiled, amused, “He and I are in a bit of a competition,” he boldly declared.

Laurence did not look convinced. He merely sighed in exasperation and changed the subject.

“I told Mr. Bonaparte about your situation and he believes to have the solution.”

“I understand something of the need to speak the truth!” declared Napoleon, in a manner rather like his namesake, “There is no need to worry, I know just the man and he should be with us presently. In the meantime, if I may ask… Will all your companions carry the name ‘William Laurence’?”

His mouth quirked up with a smirk at his little joke. Laurence smiled politely. Temeraire was deeply offended.

“Merely a coincidence, I assure you” said Laurence.

“Why, that is rich coming from the second Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte!” huffed Temeraire

“Third actually,” Someone pointed out, sounding oddly like Tharkay, “But the confusion is forgivable. It’s rather instinctive to name your offspring after yourself when you are king, lest you forget he’s your son.”

And it _was _Tharkay! He was standing directly behind Laurence and merely smiled smugly at the astonished stares that turned towards him. 

“Impeccable timing, as always,” said Napoleon, deeply sarcastic and lips pursed in a pout which only made Tharkay smile more broadly. Turning back to Temeraire and Laurence, Napoleon continued, “Gentlemen, may I present to you Mr. Tenzing Tharkay, my attorney.”

Laurence and Tharkay shook hands and nodded at one another under Temeraire’s expectant gaze. Impeccable timing indeed! Surely, Tharkay would remember and the sight of him should be able to trigger a return of memory in Laurence. But there was no reaction from either. Tharkay merely took the seat that was offered to him and Napoleon started explaining the circumstances of their meeting.

Temeraire’s mind was spinning. He barely noticed when Bonaparte at last excused himself, pleading business of his own to attend to. 

“William Laurence is a perfectly good name to be had,” insisted Temeraire after he was gone, interrupting whatever banalities they were discussing, “besides you’re the actual William Laurence not some descendant!”

Tharkay raised an eyebrow at him, Laurence started rubbing his temples.

“Yes,” said Tharkay blankly, “Well, how about you tell me why the British government is suing you for slander and how open you are to countersuing?”

Temeraire did not understand – Tharkay had done it the first time! But there was not even a hint of recognition. Tharkay was already talking business and Laurence merely declared he would get them some drinks. Temeraire wanted to shout in frustration and part of him hoped the case would last because he was going to need the time to figure something out. 

Tharkay won the slander case in less than a week. This was good, because with this victory came requests for a book on the subject of the dragon sickness and Temeraire was happy to oblige. _But _it was mostly _inconvenient _because a week had not been nearly enough for Laurence and Tharkay to reconnect. So Temeraire had to improvise.

He asked Tharkay to look into the legal situation of the estate and had to jump through several hoops to get him to come visit them as often as possible. Eventually, his efforts born fruit. Laurence and Tharkay disappeared together for a few hours and came back disheveled, smelling of sewer water and with a crazy story of misunderstandings. They were fast friends after that, which was nothing out of character for them, yet they persisted in not remembering.

The situation of the estate stayed confused for a long time and also failed to trigger a recovery of memory. Tharkay was astonished to find out that the legal nightmare entangling the property rights had been instrumented by one _Tenzing Tharkay. _Much like Laurence, he refused to listen to Temeraire’s insistence that it was himself. Still, after a hefty amount of evidence gathering, some fights with bureaucracy and some legal magic Tharkay managed to get Temeraire the property of the estate _ad vitam aeternam. _

Laurence and Temeraire moved back in after graduation and as Temeraire started writing his book on _the true account of the events of the dragon sickness _he had the place re-built and started working on luring Tharkay to move back in with them. Or well, move in.

He almost had things back to where they were supposed to be when a letter came, carrying the news of Granby’s passing, taking him completely by surprise.

Temeraire did not believe it, at first. He refused to believe it. He had always assumed Iskierka would also get Granby additional lives now that she knew it was possible. She had always been stubborn that way. He didn’t believe it until he saw her, until they lowered Granby’s coffin into the ground, until after the funeral when she started crying and would not stop. Granby was well and truly dead. The realisation left a sour taste in Temeraire’s mouth. 

After the funeral, Iskierka flew to the beach where she and Granby had spent their last day together. She stayed curled up on the sand for hours, and Temeraire stayed with her, trying to comfort her with his companionship. Laurence and Tharkay were in the water, at a respectful distance, trousers rolled up to their knees and watching Tharkay’s kestrel fly in circles above their heads. He curled himself tightly about her and watched them from afar. 

“Are you certain you wish him to remember?” Iskierka asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

“What a silly question,” said Temeraire, “of course, I am certain.”

Iskierka didn’t reply immediately. It wasn’t so unusual now with Granby gone, but always enough to make Temeraire uncomfortable because of how sharply it contrasted with the Iskierka from when there was a Granby. She seemed lost in her own thoughts however, so Temeraire did his best to bite his tongue and not fidget.

“My Granby was so lonely when everyone he knew died,” she said finally, “he kept telling me stories and then get in a mood.”

“But he had you. You made him happy.”

“Oh, and I never doubted that,” she sniffed, her habitual pride piercing through, “but I think he still felt left behind. And now I know how terrible it is to remember something you can never have again.”

In the distance, Tharkay’s kestrel finally caught a fish and crashed straight into Tharkay with it. A sharp laugh escaped Laurence and he turned back to smile at Temeraire. Seeing him happy soothed Temeraire immediately and he chose to ignore Iskierka’s cryptic comments. She, understandably, had her reasons to be sceptical and Temeraire did not want to dwell on how much pain she must have been in after having lost her captain.

“Did you try to get him more lives?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She sighed heavily.

“I was tempted at first. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You still had to watch Laurence die, and you will watch him die again. No, better to let my Granby die once, at peace, and happy.”

Her words sent a cold shiver down Temeraire’s spine and he stared at her, her slumped form and the way she was looking at the horizon, eyes unseeing. Everything about her was faded, like Maximus and Lily, and Temeraire did not understand how it could possibly be _better_. The words stayed stuck in his chest, however and she didn’t seem like she would hear him anyways. He pressed himself closer, Grief was a terrible thing, and he was glad to have escaped it.

-THREE-

The marketplace was bustling with activity. The stalls were practically stacked on top of one another, full with colourful food and rich fabrics whilst the merchant men loudly described their goods and their prices to the crowd only pausing to haggle animatedly with a client. The three ochre Egyptian lightweights meant to accompany them on their expedition immediately split up in three different directions, slithering amongst the crowd with practiced ease to go deliver the various missives and pick up the necessary supplies. Aanekhtou, a lapis lazuli and sand yellow middleweight, stayed behind to supervise the humans as they packed.

He had been of enormous help when Temeraire and Laurence had been stationed in Egypt, going as far as helping them out of the country when the Egyptian revolts had succeeded and British officers were being taken prisoner. Temeraire had kept a regular correspondence with him afterwards, and upon their retirement he and Laurence had returned to Alexandria for a visit. When Aanekhtou had asked whether they would be interested in an expedition, they had only been too happy to accept. England felt very lonely without Lily, Maximus, and Iskierka and Temeraire had been itching for something to do.

“The road to the Valley of the Kings is perilous, and it only gets harder once you are there, so whatever you need, ask. I will not spare a single coin in providing you with what supplies or manpower you deem necessary,” he told them. 

“Are you certain that the tomb they found is Hatshepsut’s?” asked Laurence, still trying to figure out the rough map he had been given.

“There is no way to be sure without opening it, I’m afraid. But in any case, it is important that we get to it first,” Aanekhtou’s tone held a worried edge, “there are disturbing reports of European expeditions coming in and emptying whatever tombs they find to sell their contents or bring them back to their country… I am hoping that, as one of their fellows, you will be able to take them by surprise,” he admitted.

It was a sound strategy, a lot more diplomatic then what Temeraire would have done if he knew of strangers coming in to steal China’s treasures and show such disrespect. Laurence seemed to agree. He nodded and packed up all the maps.

“Very well, Temeraire and I will go looking for a guide, we will meet you back here in the evening,” he said.

They wandered the market all day, asking to anyone willing to stop and talk to them if they knew where they could find someone to guide them to the Valley of the Kings. Their patchwork of French, English and Arabic made it more difficult and they were either dismissed or led to some unsavory character who obviously knew very little about the valley, never mind how to get to it. Temeraire’s black hide, so different than the typical Egyptian dragon, and Laurence’s very British accent and mannerism did not help their case, the local population obviously suspicious of strangers asking to be led to tombs potentially full of treasure.

By sunset, they still had no potential candidates and even less of an idea where to look. They stopped for a break at a small fountain, Laurence ducking to drink and tugging at his neck cloth in discomfort at the suffocating heat.

“Perhaps we ought to have asked Aanekhtou to take care of this as well,” Temeraire noted, grimly.

Just then, shouts broke out from a building nearby and a young man sprinted out, colliding straight into Laurence. On instinct, Laurence held out his hands to steady the boy, but he only shouldered his way past, shoving Laurence straight into the fountain where he landed with a splash and an undignified sputter. Shocked, Temeraire moved to swipe the rude human up, but a cloaked figure with a Kestrel on their shoulder suddenly turned the corner of a fruit stall ahead and shoved a walking stick in between the runners legs, making him fall flat on his face.

“I believe this isn’t yours,” said the stranger leaning down and picking up the thieves’ bounty from his belt.

He handed the contents back to the flushed owner of the shop where the commotion had started before turning to Temeraire and Laurence, ignoring the boy who scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the crowd. The sun was at his back, his shadow stretched across the ground as he made his way to them and Temeraire discreetly helped Laurence out of the fountain as they were forced to squint against the light to keep looking at him. When he finally reached them, Laurence was thankfully back on his feet and as composed as a man soaking wet could be. The stranger pushed his hood back, revealing a smirking Tharkay. He handed back to Laurence his pendant which Temeraire could have sworn had been securely around his neck merely a few seconds ago.

“Would not want to lose that,” he said, “and I heard you were looking for a guide?”

Temeraire had not actively, per se, sought out Tharkay because there had been no guarantees that he would also have benefitted from Laurence’s third life. But, the moment Aanekhtou had mentioned the expedition, he had known they would need a guide to get them from Alexandria to the Valley of the Kings and so had sent out a few discreet inquiries about whether a man named Tenzing Tharkay was in the area. It was a long shot, of course, but Temeraire decided there would be no harm in trying, especially considering Tharkay’s knack for showing up exactly when needed to.

Besides, without him, he felt there was something missing in this life and he was sure Laurence would agree, if only he could remember. That particular problem had carried over unfortunately and each time Temeraire tried to talk about something from a previous life, he would either fail to notice, somehow, or be struck with a sudden headache and have to lay down. It was very inconvenient.

Thankfully, Temeraire’s efforts had born fruits. Tharkay had come to Alexandria when he learned someone was asking about him, had learned about the expedition organised by Aanekhtou and had sought them out to offer his services. Temeraire was terribly excited.

To say that he was interfering would not be accurate. Rather, he was merely… hurrying things along, because they did not have much time. The remaining preparations were quickly sorted out and as a result, Temeraire had to sacrifice subtlety. He loudly commented on Tharkay’s many virtues to Laurence at every chance he got, came up with all sorts of manoeuvres to keep Tharkay from wandering away and always invited him to join them by the fire at night.

In a surprising twist, unlike their previous lives, Laurence and Tharkay held no hostility or suspicion for each other. Temeraire was met with the altogether different problem of human awkwardness when it came to courting. He knew Laurence well enough by now to see when he was skirting around something and it mostly involved him worrying too much about propriety.

He tested his theory one evening, whilst Tharkay helped Laurence make a few helpful corrections to their maps. Temeraire deliberately occupied as much space as possible and placed his tail just so they were forced to stand closer together. Their hands brushed, once. The rest of the evening was spent with the two awkwardly navigating around one another, Laurence keeping his hands by his side, as stiff as a board, and Tharkay moving very deliberately and very slowly. That night, Laurence plead a headache which supposedly made him wish to eat quietly in his room.

As much as he loved them, Temeraire will admit that they were stubborn enough to drive you insane. He wondered if they had merely gotten lucky in their first two lives and if this time the relationship never went beyond professional… would Tharkay stay? This uncertainty distressed him. Temeraire had already gotten used to his constant presence in their lives, he didn’t know what he would do without it. Thankfully, Laurence, dearest Laurence, gave him some amount of hope the night before their departure. 

Temeraire had just swallowed two entire cows by himself and was dozing off whilst Laurence and Tharkay ate their own dinner, talking quietly. He didn’t pay much attention at first since they mostly went over the last details of their trip before falling into a companionable silence.

“What is it?” Asked Laurence, quietly.

The sound of his voice brought Temeraire back to semi awareness, although there was no urgency in his tone. Tharkay huffed a breath in amusement.

“I am having the strong sense we have already done this before.”

“The trip to the Valley of the Kings?”

“Yes. Well, no. More specifically the preparations. And I had… dreams, of crossing a mountain with a celestial”.

Another pause, then the sound of Laurence shifting.

“Odd. I have similar dreams, except we are stuck in a crevasse waiting for something which I can never identify.”

Temeraire snorted in surprise at the admission but quickly tried to mask it as a snore. It took all of his self-control not to jump up to tell them those dreams were real and demand whether they remembered more or if there were more details. Asking directly had never worked before but those dreams were finally a good sign so he did his best to stay quiet.

When they believed he had settled again, Laurence cleared his throat. 

“Perhaps this is the result of Temeraire attentions. He seems to have adopted you as part of his crew. He is very fond of you”.

“And I of him,” Tharkay admitted, sounding surprised with himself. His words hung in the air before he pushed ahead, softly, “I’ve found his captain to be pleasant company as well.”

This time, Temeraire dared to sneak an eye open to look. Both men were pointedly avoiding eye contact, Tharkay focused on rekindling the fire and Laurence looking up at the stars, but Temeraire also noticed their relaxed posture, Laurence’s slight flush and Tharkay’s quirk of the lips signifying he was holding back a smile. He closed his eyes again, satisfied. Things were going along nicely, after all.

It was only a one-day flight from Alexandria to the Valley of the Kings. Temeraire knew he could do it in less, but the Egyptians had been very careful to regulate the speed of dragon flights so they could monitor the skies more easily. Tharkay and Laurence spent the day talking to each other whilst Temeraire pretended not to hear them when they attempted to bring him into the conversation. 

They arrived at the Valley of the Kings at dusk to an unpleasant surprise: the entrance of the tomb was already swarming with people. Everyone immediately snapped to business. Temeraire landed on the rocks just above the tombs and Laurence descended just as one of the trespassers stalked over to them.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, "this area has already been claimed!”

“I am Captain Laurence of Temeraire," said Laurence, very calm. "I am here on behalf of Aanekhtou, representative of the Egyptian government. Who am I speaking with?”

The man whipped off his sun hat and the scarf protecting his face from the sun, revealing perfectly trimmed blond hair, a moustache and blue eyes. Temeraire blinked, and recoiled, growling softly. It was Rankin. Tharkay threw him a curious glance, but stepped closer to Laurence in response.

“Captain Rankin. Here in my right as a private contractor.”

“Captain, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

“On what grounds?” He spat

“Those tombs qualify as national heritage, they are to remain untouched, and you are currently trespassing,” explained Laurence again, as if it were not obvious.

“On whose authority?”

“The Egyptian government,” pipped up Tharkay.

Rankin seemed to petrify with anger, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides and eyes darting between Laurence and Tharkay. But all at once, he relaxed. A wide smile blossomed on his face and he raised his hands.

“I was not aware. Of course. I will tell my men to pack, I give you my word we will be gone by morning.”

Temeraire was immediately suspicious. It seemed too easy. Even Laurence seemed to hesitate, and for a moment Temeraire though he was going to ask them to leave immediately.

“We will give you until morning then.”

Temeraire flattened his ruff in disappointment as Rankin walked away. Oh what he wouldn’t have given for a chance to chase him away, he didn’t understand why Laurence would just let him be especially after he had been so unpleasant.

“Laurence…” he started, not sure how to explain his – well justified – mistrust on the sole basis of bad manners.

“We should take turns supervising him,” suggested Tharkay, rounding on Laurence, as if reading Temeraire’s mind. 

“He does seem rather suspicious,” Temeraire hurried to agree.

But Laurence shook his head.

“No. We will give him until morning,” he said, looking between them, “Aanekhtou wants us to avoid an altercation, if possible.”

“So you’re just going to trust him?” Scoffed Tharkay.

Laurence threw him a disapproving look but he stood unmoved, his expression closing off. Temeraire felt a spike of anxiety as he sensed a disagreement coming. This was going two steps backwards and of course, Rankin would be the one to ruin everything.

“For now, there is no reason not to,” said Laurence firmly. “In the meantime, we have to set up camp”.

Tharkay shook his head slowly but stepped back.

  
“I’m going to check the perimeter,” he said. 

He patted Temeraire on the foreleg and disappeared between the rocks, leaving Laurence and Temeraire to watch him go. Temeraire wanted to fly after him, to explain that this wasn’t about Laurence not trusting Tharkay, but about him being too trusting of Rankin. But Laurence started to unload their equipment and he turned to help him, pushing those thoughts aside. It wasn’t their first disagreement, and it wasn’t even an important one, in the grand scheme of things. Once this whole business was over, they would have plenty of time to continue their courting.

Periodically throughout the day, Tharkay made several appearances, helping with the camp before promptly disappearing again. After a few rounds of this mysterious behavior, Temeraire realised that Tharkay was probably keeping an eye on Rankin’s camp. This Tharkay was not as skilled as in his first life, having not spent years on his own doing this type of work and Temeraire knew him well enough it was obvious. He didn’t say anything to Laurence however, partly because he didn’t want to cause any further ripples in their relationship and at the same time he didn’t trust Rankin. It was reassuring to know someone was keeping an eye on him and it wasn’t anything that could harm Laurence. 

It would have ended perfectly well, too, if it hadn’t been for Rankin.

Shortly after 4 in the afternoon, a courier dragon landed in their camp and Rankin came stomping towards Laurence, face red.

“What is the meaning of this!” he pointed an accusatory finger at Tharkay who was lurking in the shadows of a tent, a few feet behind Laurence, “this man had been spying on me all day! I demand to know why!”

Laurence glanced back at Tharkay, frowning, but immediately stepped forward to shield him from sight, calling Rankin’s attention back to him.

  
“Sir, I do not see what you mean. All of my men have been accounted for all day,” he said.

Rankin kept shouting at Laurence, refusing to be placated and being his generally insufferable self. Temeraire did not much care for him, he knew Laurence could handle him easily, had done it before. He was more worried about Tharkay and had half a mind to send him on an errand to keep him away until Laurence calmed down when Rankin’s dragon caught his attention. He hadn’t moved from where Rankin had left him, which was unusual these days, and upon closer look, his heart seized painfully in his chest when he recognised Levitas.

At once, he flew over to the small dragon and found himself at loss of what to say. Levitas barely acknowledged him with a nod but kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Inside Temeraire, a familiar fury boiled, not unmixed with shame. He couldn’t help but feel he had failed the other dragon in their first life and faced with a second chance he didn’t know where the start.

“Would you like some water?” he whispered eventually.

He barely had the time to nudge a bucket towards him from which Levitas drank gratefully, when Rankin’s outraged speech came to an end.

“Get your man under control!” he snapped a final time.

He stalked back to Levitas who crouched low on the ground to allow him to climb back to his neck. Temeraire almost snapped right then and there, but Laurence was already standing next to him, and the reminder of the incoming confrontation pulled his attention away – again. He watched them fly away grimly, fatigue taking over him at the sudden feeling of being overwhelmed. 

“What did you think you were doing?” demanded Laurence, turning on Tharkay.

“Keeping an eye on them,” he replied.

“Laurence,” intervened Temeraire, “I also think it was necessary.”

“You knew about this?” asked Laurence, astonished.

“Yes. I know Rankin and even the first time he was…”

“Please don’t,” interrupted Laurence.

It was the first time he lost patience when Temeraire tried to reference a previous life, and as Laurence turned away from him he realised how quickly everything was unravelling.

“Did you see anything inappropriate at all?” asked Laurence.

Tharkay’s silence was telling and Temeraire ducked his head, uncomfortable. Laurence sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Both of you have to drop this now, he gave us his word they would be gone by morning.”

“You do not know this man!” insisted Tharkay, “And you’re just going to believe him?”

“I have no reason not to! What would you have me do?”

“I would ask myself why he was here in the first place. It is no secret that the Egyptians want to protect their national treasures from foreigners! At the very least, he should be kept under supervision!”

“Apparently, the only one who I should have kept under supervision is you.” 

Laurence cut himself off, realising at once how his words sounded. Tharkay’s features twitched briefly, hurt, before he quickly composed himself under a mask of indifference. They stared at one another in tense silence, and Temeraire found himself hoping one of them would apologise right there and then.

“Fine,” snapped Tharkay

For the second time that day, he walked away, and Laurence let him. Temeraire flicked his tail anxiously, but could not bear it anymore and flew off, ignoring Laurence’s call after him. He needed to think. 

Perhaps it had been irrational of Temeraire to want things to be exactly the same. The dragon witch had promised nine lives but not that they would all be the same. Well. The witch hadn’t said anything really, Temeraire had mostly been assuming. Still, he wouldn’t let Laurence and Tharkay part on bad terms because of a disagreement, but if their relationship was to remain casual… then he wouldn’t try to force the issue. Not too much.

It was well into the night when he came back, feeling a lot more relaxed and determined to clarify things with Laurence and Tharkay. He noticed Laurence’s form by the fire, waiting for him, but Tharkay still hadn’t returned. Temeraire had a bad feeling gnawing at his guts. He made another quick flight over the cliffs, in case Tharkay had gotten injured, but there was no trace of him. He returned to camp and nudged Laurence who was mostly asleep. 

“Laurence? You haven’t seen Tharkay come back, have you?”

At once, Laurence snapped back to attention.

“Temeraire? What? Have you not seen him?”

He told Temeraire to have another look from the air as he checked every tent of the encampment but once again, both came up empty.

“Perhaps he chose to leave us?” Laurence speculated, unsure.

“No, no, no this does not sound like Tharkay at all!” denied Temeraire, firmly “He must simply be somewhere we have not thought of.”

Laurence stared at him, but this time accepted his words and turned towards the entrance to the Valley of the Kings.

“There is one place we haven’t checked yet”.

They flew up to Hatshepsut’s tomb where they found something else altogether. Men were coming out of the tomb with crates filled to the brim with treasures, overlooked by Rankin standing near the entrance a whip at his hand. They were working quickly, loading dragons in a hurry whilst other workers were lining the side of the cliff with explosives. Temeraire wished he could say he was as surprised as Laurence. 

“It seems you and Mr. Tharkay were right after all,” sighed Laurence.

He sounded more sorry to have doubted them then to have been wrong and Temeraire nudged him reassuringly.

“What shall we do?” He asked, trying to keep his voice low, “We can’t let them get away with this!”

“We must act carefully, we are vastly outnumbered. For now the best course of action is to wait. We will try to follow them”

They did not have to wait long. The thieves brought out what seemed to be the last load of their stolen cargo and Rankin signalled for the loaded dragons to fly off. But as Temeraire prepared to go after them, Laurence stopped him. Two men stepped forward, holding a tied up Tharkay between them and dragging him towards the entrance of the Tomb. Temeraire growled.

“It was Rankin! We can’t leave Tharkay like this!”

“We won’t,” said Laurence, “wait for my signal.”

Temeraire watched Laurence inch closer until he was just above them, still hidden between the rocks. The three men seemed to be in disagreement, and Temeraire braced himself to intervene at Laurence’s first move. He spotted another heavyweight a few steps away and saw Levitas hesitantly nudging Rankin only for him to snap at him and shrug him off.

Suddenly, Laurence started running towards them, just as Rankin pulled out a pistol, pointed it at Tharkay’s head and fired.

Temeraire lunged forward and let himself drop down the cliff, forcing the three men to duck out of the way. He twisted just in time to see Laurence and Tharkay lose their balance and fall down the tomb. The next moment, he was tackled by the heavyweight, pinning him, and giving enough time for the others to run away from him and the tomb. Temeraire swiped at the other dragon’s flank, hot blood pooling on the ground and shook him off. He made towards the tomb again when a white flash blinded him. There was a loud detonation, and to his horror Temeraire saw rocks slide off the side of the cliff and crash onto the ground, burying the entrance.

Temeraire did not manage to avoid all of the rubble, and could only watched half-stunned as Rankin, Levitas, the wounded heavyweight and the remaining men flew away. His ears were ringing. His tail lashed furiously and he managed to shrug the rubble that had partly buried him, vigourously shaking the dust off him. His rage morphed to worry for Laurence and Tharkay and he immediately turned to where used to be the entrance.

There was no sign of it. It seemed the entire side of the cliff had fallen off and all that was left was a pile of rocks and dirt.

Temeraire started digging as fast as he could, hoping that Tharkay and Laurence had fallen far enough not to have gotten crushed by the debris. But in the darkness, he could barely see what he was doing and after an hour, had barely made any progress. Every time he cleared away some of the heavier rocks, everything would shift and more sand would fall and block the way. Temeraire was getting tired. He felt very hot, his tail and back were aching from where he had gotten hit and he could feel sweat sticking to his hide despite the cool air of the desert night. He was very thirsty and suspected he had breathed in a significant amount of dust because his throat was aching.

Still, he did not dare to stop for rest for more than a few moments. He was about to dig back in when a faint flutter of wings caught his attention. He braced for a fight. 

It was Levitas.

The little dragon landed at a distance, crouched low to the ground, tail flicking nervously. Temeraire relaxed minutely but stayed on his guard.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, “did Rankin send you?”

“No,” the answer was barely above a whisper, “no, I… left him.” He seemed confused by that fact and Temeraire would have been as well if he hadn’t known what a horrible man Rankin was.

“I didn’t like leaving you like this,” continued Levitas, “I came back to help.”

Unexpected relief washed over Temeraire and he couldn’t help but feel vindicated.

“Won’t Rankin be mad at you?”

Levitas lowered his head and said lowly, “he always is anyway”.

Temeraire almost moved to comfort him but his exhaustion and anxiety for Laurence and Tharkay made him impatient. Instead he moved aside to allow Levitas to come closer and help him dig. The winchester shook his head.

“It’s not going to work this way. I’ve seen them do it when they were trying to reach the tomb, you have to build scaffolding”.

He indicated to a pile of discarded material.

“If we can make a big enough tunnel, I can go in and help them out.”

Even working together, it took all night. Temeraire would dig and Levitas would place the wooden planks along the sides of the small tunnel, working silently but tirelessly. Finally, at the first light of day, Levitas disappeared into the tunnel and Temeraire heard a shout.

“I’ve got them!”

When their disheveled forms emerged from the tunnel, Temeraire immediately lifted them up to inspect them. The ball from Rankin’s shot had hit Laurence in the arm and the improvised bandage was already soaked through. The two men were drenched with sweat and breathing heavily but Laurence smiled brightly up at him.

“I am very happy to see you, my dear,” he leaned into Temeraire who sighed and relief.

“You are not too hurt?” asked Temeraire, still inspecting him.

Laurence shook his head.

“It is just a scratch and Tharkay was kind enough to patch me up. Nothing more to be done for now”

Tharkay was equally unmarred but for the rope burns on his wrists and he smiled faintly at the grateful look Laurence threw his way. Of course, getting into trouble would be what made them reconcile, Temeraire shouldn’t have expected any less. He snorted in astonishment as he gently lowered them to the ground.

Laurence turned to Levitas and smiled at him, “and thank you Levitas. We couldn’t have made it without you.”

The smaller dragon beamed and stood tall for once. Temeraire was immediately reminded of their brief time spent bathing at Loch Laggan.

“Now, we must catch up to Rankin before Hatshepsut’s treasure disappears forever,” Continued Laurence, “Levitas, I know this is not easy, but would you be willing to lead us to him?”

This time, Levitas seemed to hesitate. Temeraire nudged him a little in encouragement and finally said what he had been wanting to say since the beginning.

“You don’t have to stay with him, you know. We can help you find a better captain if that’s what you like.”

“I don’t know if I want another captain,” the Winchester admitted quietly. He seemed lost at the realisation, looking about the abandoned encampment and at Laurence and Tharkay. Then, he seemed to brace himself and looked up at Temeraire with determination, “I will lead you to him.”

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Within the day, Rankin was arrested by the Egyptian authorities just as he was loading the ship that would take him out of Egypt. Temeraire slept during most of it, but was told by Tharkay it had been an entertaining affair over dinner the next evening. Aanekhtou had once again welcomed them to his residence to celebrate, after Laurence had been seen to by a doctor and bandaged up properly. Levitas was having an excited discussion with the Egyptian dragons about a career in archeology, looking more animated then Temeraire had ever seen him.

“What will you do now?” asked Tharkay.

Laurence gingerly picked up his cup of coffee, careful with his wounded arm and tilted him head at Temeraire.

“I would rather like to keep travelling, I think,” he said, “what do you think, my dear?”

“Oh, absolutely! I was thinking we are overdue for a visit in China.”

“Well, I have business in Istanbul,” said Tharkay, suddenly.

He straightened in uncharacteristic shyness when they both turned to look at him.

“It would be on your way, if you cared to accompany me,” he continued, tone carefully detached.

This was as good an invitation as they would get from him and Temeraire felt a great swell of excitement at the prospect of travelling together again. He held his breath, waiting for Laurence’s response.

“I would like that very much,” replied Laurence.

He smiled at Tharkay. They were looking at each other in quiet wonder again, and Temeraire knew it would only be a matter of time before one of them finally made a move. But some things were better left at their own pace.

-FOUR-

The time spent waiting at the hospital was nerve wrecking. A strong smell permeated the air, everything was noisy and still, Laurence would not wake up. After the first week they had been moved further inside the medical tent so they would be out of the way of the nurses and doctors as they tended to new patients. Temeraire watched a man get his left leg amputated only for him to be sent on his way a few days later. And still, Laurence wouldn’t even open his eyes.

He was told Laurence was merely sleeping to ease the recovery and indeed there were no outward signs of the chunks of shrapnel that had been pulled out of his back recently. A nurse had managed to find him a reasonably clean shirt and had washed the blood and dirt off his face under Temeraire’s watchful stare, but that had only made more obvious the paleness of his face, now creased into a constant frown of pain. The pendant from the dragon witch shinned mockingly on his breast. His breathing was laboured and he was sweating heavily and yet the doctor kept pronouncing himself satisfied.

“By some miracle there is no infection,” he said, “It’s merely the pain, and since he’s asleep there is no use wasting any morphine on him.”

Thankfully for the doctor, Tharkay had been present at the time and had managed to talk Temeraire down from disembowelling him by convincing a nurse to administer some opium for which he paid for himself.

Temeraire spent his days curled around Laurence’s bed, growling at anyone who tried to get him to move. He only slept in short bursts and always one eye open, ready to jump to his feet at any sign of movement from the bed. He even stopped eating for a while, the food tasting like ash in his mouth and unable to swallow more than a sip of water, until once more Tharkay intervened and managed to coax him into eating.

“Otherwise, how are you going to keep an eye on him?” said Tharkay.

Temeraire could not argue with that logic and so accepted to swallow some porridge every few days when he felt himself getting dizzy. Then one morning, Tharkay came early, startling Temeraire from his half sleep, to bid them goodbye.

“I am being sent away,” He explained, face blank, carefully neutral.

He grabbed one of Laurence’s hand as he talked and squeezed it gently. Temeraire moved his wing to give them a bit of privacy and, as expected, Tharkay leaned over to drop a kiss on Laurence’s forehead, his anxiety at leaving them breaking through his composure. He then moved to address Temeraire, his eyes purposefully looking away from the bed and its occupant.

“Take care, Temeraire,” he whispered, caressing his muzzle, “and don’t worry too much about him, he’ll pull through.”

He was the last to talk to Temeraire for days. After he left, Temeraire was left completely on his own and he never moved, other than to catch a nurse when he felt it had been too long since one had seen to Laurence. The days blurred together and he started to wonder whether he would soon fall asleep only to wake up in another life. It wouldn’t be so bad, he mused, if only Laurence were awake then. But the thought that he was helplessly witnessing his dearest companion waste away distressed him even more and he flattened himself on the ground, letting out a long keening sound that startled everyone around him. From the bed, a low moan replied to him.

At once, Temeraire was up and leaning over to see that Laurence was indeed stirring. He dug his claws into the ground, vacillating between wanting to call for help and letting Laurence know he was here. But outside another battle was apparently going on – or had recently ended, it didn’t matter – because all the doctors and nurses were busy rushing around to tend to newly wounded soldiers. Temeraire turned his attentions to Laurence, worried to see him shivering and somehow even paler than he had been in sleep.

“Laurence? Laurence! You’re awake, wait, wait try not to move, a doctor needs to come see you.”

Contradictorily, he found himself wishing Laurence had slept just a little longer. Laurence was breathing with difficulty, swallowing short wheezing breaths which he exhaled with a moan of agony. He started writhing on the bed, as if trying to flee his pain but only causing himself more. Temeraire crouched as low as possible trying to make himself known but not suffocating and alternated between getting someone’s attention and talking to Laurence.

His crooning eventually seemed to pierce through as Laurence reached out a hand to grab on tightly to the tip of Temeraire’s tail just over his head, the first part of him he could find, and he opened his eyes, glassy with pain, to stare blankly ahead of him.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he sobbed, voice strangled, “Temeraire, I can’t feel my legs.”

The first thing the doctor did was knock Laurence out again with a strong dose of morphine which was very unpleasant to watch. Every part of Temeraire rebelled at the sight of Laurence being held down in order to be injected properly and only the promise of relief held him still. After that, the doctor refused to say anything on the matter of Laurence’s legs.

“It’s too soon to tell,” he said, dismissively.

The next time Laurence woke up, he was more composed but remained stiff with pain. Like the first time, he reached out with a trembling hand to find Temeraire who laid down so Laurence could caress his muzzle and so he could keep a close eye on him. He didn’t talk much, too focused on breathing as slowly as possible so as not to jostle any wounded part of himself, but Temeraire knew he was paying attention by the careful movement of his fingers on his skin.

Two weeks later, Laurence was judged recovered enough for his legs to be examined which quickly became difficult for everyone involved. Every wince from Laurence as he was made to sit up, lean, move, or whenever the doctor had to touch the wounded area of his back made Temeraire growl and snap his teeth at him. Laurence was too preoccupied with his pain to intervene, and Temeraire was done caring that this was all necessary and so the doctor’s companion, a Winchester, as well as another heavyweight had to be present to supervise.

This was proven necessary when the doctor tactlessly pronounced Laurence’s legs ‘useless’ and his career as a dragon captain over. Temeraire lunged, dully intending to throw him around a bit. The Winchester snatched his companion away and the heavyweight stepped in.

“Forget him,” growled the regal coper, “Focus on your captain instead.” 

That argument won him over in the end, but from that point on Laurence was no longer a captain. The letter of dismissal arrived the next morning. Laurence stared at the envelop for a while, before folding it and hiding it away without opening it. Temeraire didn’t understand why losing the use of your legs would mean you couldn’t shout orders from dragon back and, really, had no one created a harness for this type of situation? He tucked those comments away. His outrage probably wasn’t what Laurence wanted or needed to hear right now. Instead, to cheer him up Temeraire quickly suggested they wrote to Tharkay who undoubtedly anxiously waited for news. He was rewarded by a short, albeit sad, laugh.

“Tenzing would resent you describing him as anxious for anything, my dear,” said Laurence quietly.

This was not true. Temeraire knew Tenzing to be very anxious when it came to Laurence, but somehow neither humans seemed to realise it and Laurence was smiling faintly so Temeraire let it go and merely hummed in agreement. Writing took the better part of the day, Laurence still weak with pain, but it kept them busy and distracted. A few days later, when Laurence managed to sit up for more than a few minutes at a time, he was given an odd sort of chair with wheels and clasps apparently meant to be hooked to a harness.

A full six months after Laurence had been carried into the hospital with a back full of shrapnel, they were put on a boat and shipped back to England. Laurence said nothing but managed a weak smile at Temeraire’s planning for their future. He kept a hand on his leg during the whole crossing, digging his nails into the insensate limb.

London was tragically unequipped for a man in a wheelchair. Because of the lack of space, the traditional setup had the dragon pavilions on top of buildings and the top floor reserved for companions, however, Laurence was no longer capable of making the climb and categorically refused to solely rely on Temeraire to drop him off through the window. It took a lot of searching but eventually they found a small single room apartment on the ground floor of a boarding house at the edge of the city and bought the abandoned lot right next door, which was just big enough for them to build a pavilion.

Even then, several arrangements remained necessary. They had to set up a ramp so Laurence could wheel himself up the porch (“what is this obsessions with stairs everywhere?”), all the doors had to be made larger and many pieces of furniture had to be custom made so Laurence could actually reach them. When everything was finally ready, all their economies were gone.

Temeraire had to get a job. A terribly dull job at a printing factory where he had to crouch all day in a room too small for him and operate machines and where he couldn’t even point out how _terrible_ the writing in the articles being printed was because it was “outside his area of expertise” and he should “stick to his job”. But that, at least, meant they had some money coming in. Laurence tried to get a job, but no factories would take him because they had no space for wheelchairs, and some people simply turned him down immediately when they realised he couldn’t stand or walk. The worst of it all was that every time Temeraire came home, exhausted and aching all over, Laurence would look up from the newspaper ads he was buried in and consider Temeraire, a worried expression writ all over his fac, his whole body tense with guilt. Temeraire did his very best not to complain and pretend everything was going well.

In his regular correspondence with Laurence and Temeraire, Tharkay would also send them some money, probably from his own pay – somehow sensing they were in a tight spot. He never _said_ explicitly it was to help them out, but merely brushed it off as not needing it himself and hoping they could put it to a better use. At first, Laurence, never one to let Tharkay keep the title of most stubborn man in the world without a fight, kept it all in a small box under the sink, insisting he’d give it all back when Tharkay came back from the war. But then, their first winter came and with it the need to spend even more money. Most of the time, they had to choose between eating or staying warm, and finally, when Temeraire caught a cold, Laurence reluctantly started using the money to pay for medicine and gaz. They barely had enough to warm up one room, so Laurence moved his bed to Temeraire’s pavilion and they huddled up together as best they could at night. 

In spring, they finally caught a break. Laurence found a job at the front desk at a rehabilitation hospital for shell-shock officers in part thanks to a letter of recommendation from Admiral Roland.

_I apologise this is the most I could do, but I assumed you would prefer this over the alternative. Knowing you, you are probably clawing at walls with boredom. Rest assured I will keep an eye out for better opportunities. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Jane Roland._

The pay was abysmal, and the hours were worse, especially since dragon access on the grounds was restricted which meant Temeraire could only drop Laurence off at the gate and he had to wheel himself up a hill. Laurence often came home exhausted, but the additional income meant they could pay for food. And he was happy to feel useful, not that Temeraire cared for this sort of thing.

They were slowly finding a new rhythm. Had there not been a war, which put a quite a damper on things, they would have been perfectly happy. Temeraire even had the time to be irritated at their neighbour, Mrs. White, who would crouch to talk to Laurence and insist on pushing his chair around. He was trying to convince Laurence to find some help, and he was convinced that Mrs. White was having a directly opposite effect on him.

It all came to a head one day, as they were going home with groceries. Temeraire was depositing his cows in their padlock, yet again trying to convince Laurence to ask their neighbours for some help occasionally – they had offered several times! - as Laurence maneuvered himself up the ramp, his own bag of food on his laps.

“You would love them.”

“I am sure I would Temeraire, but it sounds as if they are busy enough as it is. Besides, we do not need help.”

Almost as if belying his words, the bag of produce on his lap titled forward and he had to let go of the wheels of his chair to catch it. Temeraire caught the back of the chair with one of his talons before it slid back down the ramp.

“No, I think we’ve proven that we can manage already,” he pointed out, exasperated and fond all at once, “but it would be reciprocal! We would be helping each other. Our lives would be easier, and their lives would be easier.”

“Oh you poor dear,” cooed Mrs. White from the porch, suddenly. Laurence’s shoulders tensed in contained irritation, “let me help you with this.”

She tried to pick up the bag but he tightened his grip.

“It’s quite alright, thank you, I can manage,” he said, a tight smile on his face.

“Nonsense, let me get this for you.”

She took the bag and his keys, and made to go inside, probably straight to the kitchen where she would re-arrange everything as she saw fit. The last time she had done this, she had put everything out of reach for Laurence. At that same moment, by some miracle, Demane appeared running down the stairs of their building. Temeraire reacted on instinct.

“Ah! Demane! Here you are!”

Demane startled, whipping his head around to look at them and frowned in confusion. Temeraire had several lives of practice however and pushed on.

“I was just telling Mrs. White here that you were coming to help us.”

Mrs. White’s lips pinched in a pout and she turned to stare at Laurence, who looked perplexed but did nothing to contradict Temeraire. In four lives, it was the first time he let him get away with a white lie to get rid of someone, it seemed Mrs. White had successfully grinded away at all of his patience.

For a moment, Demane looked like he was about to walk away, but he took in the situation, eyes going from Mrs. White to Laurence’s wheelchair and his expression softened in understanding.

“… Yes. Sorry I’m late.”

Mrs. White reluctantly handed him the groceries, swayed on her feet as she looked for another way to stick around, found none, and left with a sigh. Temeraire preened.

“How do you know my name?” asked Demane as soon as she disappeared.

That was awkward. He wondered if Demane believed in resurrections. But no, too risky. 

“I heard it… around,” he said a bit lamely.

“I apologise about that,” said Laurence, “Thank you for your assistance, we won’t hold you any longer.”

“It’s quite alright. I also try to avoid Mrs. White. Although in your case, I think it’s slightly more complicated,” Demane paused, hesitating. “If you ever want some help, my brother and I just moved in.”

The offer could not have come at a more perfect moment. Temeraire held his breath, and turned to stare at Laurence meaningfully.

“I would like that,” he said, finally.

Demane nodded at him and walked away. Temeraire leaned over to nudge Laurence gratefully.

Demane and Sipho were renting the attic. They had arrived in London at the beginning of the war, after their parents had died, and Demane had taken up various jobs so his brother could attend the local public school. Their luck had turned for the better recently, when Sipho had been granted a scholarship for a prestigious private college and they were able to afford to live in bigger accommodations. For the first few weeks, this was all the information Temeraire could drag out of them.

Much like in their first lives, the brothers were very private, but it was more than enough, even if Temeraire didn’t know them already. Their presence obviously made Laurence happier. They didn’t tiptoe around the wheelchair nor did they make it feel like an inconvenience. They came in and out throughout the day to help when they could, lining up for food rations with Laurence, clearing up the ramp when someone blocked it with rubbish, and walking ahead in busy streets to act as a crowd breaker. Slowly they even started staying longer in the evenings to keep them company, and Demane even talked Laurence into letting him help with the exercises meant to keep his legs healthy.

It was particularly thrilling for Temeraire to spend time with members of his crew again and he was always happy to give them a lift when he could or to help Sipho with his studies. His protective instincts towards them were were also quickly resurrected and one evening they were waiting for the boys to join them for dinner when he worried out loud to Laurence whether the attic was too cold.

“Cold? It is the middle of summer Temeraire, if anything it’s probably sweltering hot up there,” said Laurence.

That was true.

“… Yes. I meant in the winter of course”

“Well I certainly hope Mrs. White at least had the decency to make sure the room had heating before renting it,” he paused, considering and looked around his own single room apartment and Temeraire’s pavilion, “If not, we will help them when the time comes, do not worry, my dear. It is as you said, we help each other.”

Temeraire hummed, lightly scratching the stone with his talons thoughtfully. Laurence chuckled. 

“It is nice to see you doting on someone else again,” he said.

His voice was fond, but Temeraire recognised an underlying sadness and knew Laurence was thinking of Tharkay. He brought him closer to his breast in comfort which Laurence acknowledged with a reassuring hand on his neck. They only separated when Demane and Sipho joined them, a few moments later. 

Laurence and Demane tackled the cooking whilst Temeraire sat down with Sipho to discuss some poetry he was studying in class. They were broaching the period of the Romantics when Sipho’s face suddenly split into a wide grin.

“Did you know, historians speculate that the initial inspiration for Lord Byron’s romantic hero archetype was a war hero also named William Laurence?” He asked.

Temeraire perked up in excitement. “Ah! How wonderful! Well of course, Laurence would make the most fabulous romantic hero!”

At the sink, Demane snorted and Laurence turned red at the cheeks. He cleared his throat once and quickly changed the subject.

“So, you enjoy your poetry class, Sipho?”

Sipho raised an eyebrow, amused at his embarrassment, but took pity.

“I do. Although I prefer the modern poets.”

That seemed to give Laurence an idea and he rolled himself over to the desk where he kept all his important papers to pull out an envelope from the stack and handed it over to Sipho.

“Some of the patients at the hospital like to give me a few of their poems,” he explained, sheepish, “They might interest you.”

Sipho tore the envelope open, and stared at the contents in astonishment.

“You know Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon?” he gasped eventually, talking faster than any of them ever heard him talk.

Laurence seemed a bit taken aback at the enthusiasm, having not realised the importance of his gift.

“… Yes?”

One moment, Sipho was staring at him wide-eyed and the next he was hugging Laurence tightly around the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Laurence hugged back.

“You’re very welcome”.

That September, Tharkay’s letters stopped coming. They usually arrived at a regular three weeks intervals but came the day they were due to receive one, and Temeraire lined up at the post for an hour before Billy, the small courier dragon who was nice enough to put Tharkay’s letter aside for them, told him there was nothing.

“There’s talk of the allied counteroffensive going well,” said Laurence, rubbing a hand nervously on his knee, “I’m sure he was simply otherwise occupied, we’ll hear from his soon.”

Temeraire knew that he and Sipho started making the detour to the post every evening before coming home. Still, nothing came, until early December when they got news from Admiral Roland.

_Dearest Laurence and Temeraire,_

_I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I managed to track down the whereabouts of your friend. He was assigned to a parachute drop in an undisclosed location but the dragon was shot down._ _He was declared MIA in October. His platoon leader was kind enough to give me what was left of his possessions which I have sent you in hopes that it may be of some comfort._

_My deepest condolences to the both of you,_

_Jane Roland_

The letter trembled in Laurence’s hands and he put it face down on the table, blinking furiously. He didn’t cry. There was a tight knot in Temeraire’s throat, his eyes were stinging and he wanted to curl around Laurence and not move for a week. But Laurence did not cry. He straightened his shoulders.

“Let’s have dinner,” he said simply.

He did not say another word that night, simply leaned over his plate and ate, taking small bites and swallowing slowly. He instructed Sipho to just leave the box with Tharkay’s last belongings under the sink where it remained untouched for the whole month. Temeraire did not dare to bring it up. 

On Christmas morning, Temeraire woke up to the sight of Laurence sitting on the ground with the box on his lap.

“I was waiting for you to wake up,” he said, faintly.

Inside were only four things. A jacket, Tharkay’s tags, Laurence’s old tags and all of Laurence’s letters tied together with a ribbon. The tight knot was back in Temeraire’s throat and this time he did not manage to keep it in. He ducked his head to hide them but the tears rolled out and splattered on the ground. Everything was blurry, even Laurence’s face was blurry and oh, oh Laurence was crying too.

He was gripping Tharkay’s tags to his chest and Temeraire finally let himself encircle him, laying down with Laurence pressed against him and his tail over his own head.

“I am going to miss him very much,” admitted Laurence, quietly.

Temeraire bowed his head, nuzzling him gently and Laurence leaned into it, closing his eyes, taking in several slow deep breaths.

Later, Laurence would slip Tharkay’s tags around his neck and they would invite Demane and Sipho for dinner. Laurence would read them all a Christmas Carol and breathing would not be so hard anymore.

But for now, they simply stayed still, and cried.

-FIVE-

The dragon ahead of them jerked and dropped. Temeraire had to back wing suddenly to avoid the falling body and watched, entrapped by the sight of a Grand Chevalier shot down so swiftly, as it plummeted into the dark waters beneath, its crew and passengers shouting in terror. 

“Temeraire, dive!”

He distantly heard Laurence shouting from his back and mechanically obeyed, folding his wings along his body and dropping just as an another volley of bullets whizzed over his head, ripping off the tail of a Parnassian that hadn’t moved quickly enough.

“Just keep flying, Temeraire,” shouted Laurence again, voice straining, “move as much as you can, not in a straight line!”

The sound of his voice shook Temeraire out of his stupor and he tried to focus only on the task at hand: to safely cross the channel to Dover with Laurence and the 300 French soldiers on his back. He told himself it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before. Only this time, the soldiers were French instead of Prussian. Except last time, humans didn’t have the firepower to take down a heavyweight in a single shot.

On his neck, Laurence kept shouting encouragements and Temeraire kept flying, moving up and down and left and right, the shores of Dover slowly crawling forward. All around him, dragons were falling from the sky, either too maimed to fly or simply killed right there in midair. A regal copper flying just above him got both his wings ripped off and as he went down, he managed to grab onto one of nearby German planes and drag it down with him, crushing it in his claws as they crashed on one of the destroyers travelling below. There was an explosion and the water was set ablaze. Even from all the way above, Temeraire sensed the air become thick with the smell of smoke and burnt flesh, making his eyes sting and clogging up his throat. Over the sound of gunfire in the distance and the roaring of the flames bellow, he heard Laurence’s faint gasp of horror.

“Oh, dear Lord.”

He forced himself to turn away from the gruesome sight and simply kept flying.

Only when they finally landed at Dover did Temeraire allow himself to dwell on the fact that to this 18 years old Laurence, it had been his first action. The men on his back dropped to the ground in complete silence as soon as he touched down, all of them moving lethargically, enable to move in a straight line and holding on to one another as they walked away to try and find their fellows. The sights had been enough to shake an experienced soldier to his core, never mind someone with no experience. 

The 40 years old man assigned as Laurence’s 1st lieutenant, Charleston, whom Temeraire only barely tolerated because he showed appropriate deference to Laurence’s authority in the air, had no such concerns however and a rather medieval view on manhood. Shouting orders at the crew and evacuees, he caught a shaking Laurence by the collar and started to half drag, half carry him off Temeraire’s back. Temeraire snatched Laurence up at once and curled around him, playing deaf to any protests.

“Fine,” snapped Charleston finally, stomping away, “we fly out again at dawn”. 

Temeraire wanted to snarl back at him but focused instead on Laurence who was shaking all over.

“Is it always like this?” asked Laurence, almost to himself.

“It is often difficult,” admitted Temeraire, “Especially when so much is lost.”

Laurence exhaled a breath edging on panic, his hands moving up to fidget nervously with his pendant, the blue diamonds dull and unrecognisable with soot. Temeraire tried to recall what Laurence had told him after his own first action. 

“But consider that we have successfully protected over 300 soldiers and that counts for something, does it not?”

The comfort felt awkward to Temeraire and he wasn’t sure if his words could have any effect faced with such horrors but they seemed to brace Laurence well enough. He took a few deep breaths, nodding slowly and quickly occupied himself by checking over Temeraire’s harness before they settled for the night. He still looked haunted, but his hands were steady as he worked.

Because of the urgency of the situation, there had been no time to set up a proper camp and the dragons and their crew had to sleep on the cold, trampled sand of Dover beach. Throughout the night more dragons came in, never as many as had flown out, and had to try and make themselves some space to let the men disembark and sleep. It was impossible to rest properly. More than once Temeraire woke up to being nudged over or clambered on and each time he saw that Laurence was also awake, staring with empty eyes at the black sky.

At three in the morning, Temeraire was startled out of sleep again by furious whispering and hushed whimpers. Patience stretched thin already, he raised his head to snap at the offenders only to freeze at what he saw. Two Polish heavyweights were huddled together, so underweight their bones looked about to pierce through their skin, and scraps of what used to be a harness were hanging from various odd parts of their bodies. Temeraire quickly gathered that they were talking about their captains.

“I hope she’s dead,” whispered one of them. 

Temeraire recoiled. “How can you say that,” he interrupted them, hissing furiously.

“You would too if you had seen what I saw!” she snapped back, voice trembling. Her companion hushed her again and she lowered her voice.

“The things they do to dragons and their captains… I had to watch the youngest members of my crew be killed on the spot, had to stand still as they ripped out pieces of me and threatened to do worst to my captain if I resisted-”

Her words were strangled by a sob and she hid her head between her legs, talons digging into her skin as if she was trying to rip out the memories of her brain. Temeraire curled away from the duo as much as possible, as if the horrors she was describing would jump at him if he stayed too close and he hunched closer to the members of his crew asleep near his belly, trying to hide Laurence as much as possible.

Thankfully, the two dragons now ignored him and got back to whimpering quietly at each other. Temeraire had no heart to attempt to comfort them. He was relieved to find that this time, at least, Laurence was sleeping. 

He tried to force himself to rest as well, but it seemed the moment he managed to close his eyes without imagining Laurence’s bloody, broken body, Charleston’s harsh, unpleasant voice was startling every man to their feet. Everyone got into position and Temeraire reluctantly let a haggard Laurence climb to his spot at the neck, braced by the comforting hand he placed on Temeraire’s neck. Temeraire jumped in the air and in the half obscurity of dawn started flying as fast as possible back towards the French coast.

The German heavyweight took them by surprise, using the cover of the smoke to emerge from below and knocking Temeraire into the flock of middle weights he had been carefully dodging. Temeraire managed to wrench himself free and corkscrew away, but in the few moments he had been pinned a dozen boarders had managed to latch on to his harness.

“'Ware boarders!” shouted Charleston.

There was no time to look back to survey the fighting as more middleweights came barreling towards him, trying to swarm him again. He beat away, fast. There was pain in his wing and his eyes were stinging but he forced himself to keep flying, desperate to reach the cover of the coast of Dover. Gunshots rang right behind his head and he was startled to see Charleston and another lieutenant drop.

Temeraire felt Laurence step back at the very edge of his neck and fall, the harness straps tugging as they blocked his movements. A cold stab of fear coursed through him and he lashed out at the dragon closest to him, knocking it straight out of the sky and giving himself enough room to twist around. A German lieutenant stood over Laurence, a gun pointed straight at his head.

He shouted the order for surrender and Temeraire froze, hovering in place, thinking of the terrible stories and their likely fate as prisoners, of the gun to Laurence’s head, that Laurence could die right this instant –

He turned around and, slowly, started flying towards the German lines, head drooping, a terrible, terrible dread at the pit of his stomach but the choice had been obvious. Temeraire would endure if it meant Laurence would be spared a horrible fate.

“Temeraire,” Laurence called in a low, wretched, voice.

Their captor shouted something in German, interrupting him and making Temeraire flinch, but Laurence started again.

“My dear, I am so very sorry.”

His tone was strangely strangled, voice so low it barely carried over. Temeraire’s head swiveled around in alarm just as Laurence lunged forward, grabbed the officer’s spare weapon and swiftly turned the barrel around and towards himself.

The sound of the gun was lost in Temeraire’s scream, divine wind ripping through the sky and shattering beast and human machines alike. In a blind fury, he dropped towards the ground and threw himself at the German defending lines.

His rampage only stopped when he no longer had the strength to keep himself aloft. He crashed on the beach of the French coast and forced himself to crawl to an isolated corner, as far away from the bodies and the carnage as possible before he collapsed. He belatedly noticed that he had been followed and almost summoned enough strength to lash out only for it to drain out of him completely when he recognised Tharkay.

The boy – because even he was still _just a boy –_ dragged up to him the remains of a horse and refused to move or talk until he ate. Weary, Temeraire complied. He wanted to ask how come he ended in this wretched corner of the world but as soon as he finished his first bite, a heavy fog clouded his head and he couldn’t help but coil up further on himself as sleep started to overcome him.

He felt Tharkay climb up to Laurence’s body, still hanging from the carabiners, and gently bring it down to be laid out in front of him, already wrapped up into a rough fabric. Temeraire slid into a dark, dreamless sleep to the sound of a shovel digging into the ground nearby, each scrape shouting at him reproachfully that it would have been a far, far better thing of him to just let Laurence die in his first life – at peace and happy.


	2. Chapter 2

-SIX-

In the sixth life, Temeraire woke up disoriented and nauseous. It was the middle of the night, the full moon was high in the sky and he could hear the sound of crashing waves on the shore close by. A shape stood before him, faintly outlined by the moon's white light. Tall, broad shoulders, a silhouette Temeraire would recognize anywhere but that simply could not be. He was being haunted by Laurence’s ghost in his sleep, probably as punishment for his selfishness, there was no other explanation.

The figure stepped closer to climb on his forearm, instinctively, familiar, but surely Temeraire only imagined the warmth spreading from every point of contact. Still, still, his grief still froze him over entirely and he couldn’t help but curl himself about the warmth, whining in misery and taking refuge in sleep again.

The sun was up to its midday point when he woke up again and Laurence was still there, very much solid and present and _alive_ in Temeraire’s protective embrace. Laurence’s eyes lit up, when he noticed Temeraire was awake, as they always had at the sight of him and in a way Temeraire knew he did not deserve, not anymore, not after everything. Temeraire immediately noticed everything else about Laurence that was wrong.

He looked – subdued. He was thinner than usual. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look so very pale, it was no surprise Temeraire had confused him with a ghost. He was unshaven, clothes damaged from sea water and time. Protectiveness rose in Temeraire, strong enough to rival even his self-digust. There was no sign of the damned witch-dragon pendant, at least, but the damage had been done. 

It had been cruel of him to force Laurence to die again and again simply because Temeraire didn’t want to be alone. If he knew, Laurence would hate him –

Laurence would leave him.

The first month was the hardest. Temeraire was torn between not wanting to burden Laurence again, and feeling deeply anxious about having him out of sight or even merely out of reach. The first week, he tried making excuses to stay on the beach at night and send Laurence home to sleep, but Laurence quickly admitted he didn’t have a home. He lived on a small fishing sailboat and spent most of his money paying for a place to dock it when he wasn’t using it. Temeraire was left momentarily speechless. It was no surprise that Laurence had instinctively returned to the sea and sailing but it was very unlike him to live as a recluse. Of course, this meant Temeraire had to keep Laurence with him at night.

And then there were the nightmares.

Not once, did Laurence sleep a full night. When he did manage to fall asleep, he would startle awake every two hours, gasping and blindly seeking purchase on Temeraire’s foreleg but most nights, he never even closed his eyes. Temeraire would wake up to find him pacing back and forth on the sand in front of him, and it was impossible to know whether he was trying to keep himself awake or hoping to fall from exhaustion into a dreamless sleep.

“I have dreams,” said Laurence when Temeraire tentatively inquired about this insomnia, “they don't even make sense.”

It was a hot day, Temeraire had crawled out of his cave and into the sun to soak up some warmth and chase away the constant chill in his bones. Laurence sat crossed legged in his shadow, running his hand into the sand, drawing nonsensical shapes.

“It’s me, but not really. I’m in the brig of the sinking HMS Goliath, I’m being dragged underwater, I’m locked inside an Egyptian tomb, I’m waking up on a hospital bed and I can’t move, I get shot in the - ”

Temeraire watched in horror as Laurence cut himself off and brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, apparently not even noticing the gesture as he frowned, confused. 

“I get headaches thinking about it,” he shrugged.

Temeraire’s guilt felt like a knife in his heart. He hurried to change the subject to the repairs Laurence wanted to make on his sailing boat, without really listening. He had always hoped Laurence would remember, but not like this. This – nightmare, headaches, insomnia – was something else he had failed to consider. Of course, he had been so focused on trying to get them back to normal that he had ignored everything else, had needlessly put Laurence in danger, had put his needs aside again and again for what he wanted. He couldn’t run from his responsibilities again. This time, there was something Temeraire could do about it.

The obvious solution was to make sure Laurence would not remember. And the best way to do that, Temeraire decided, was to leave Europe and never look back.

He set his sights on the American continent. There were brand new places to explore, it was far from Europe and the least likely place to have triggers for Laurence’s memory. It was perfect. It took a bit of convincing, but not as much as Temeraire expected. Laurence was a bit reluctant to sell his boat but was quickly sold on Temeraire’s presentation of Ottawa’s potential, a city he had chosen at random. 

“If that’s what you want my dear, I don’t see why not,” he said.

They went by sea, of course. Temeraire didn’t think he wanted to be near an airplane anytime soon and he unfortunately couldn’t fly far enough to reach the Canadian coast. Thankfully, dragon transports were much improved since the Napoleonic era and were equipped with pavilions. The voyage gave them time to plan and, as tends to happen when you don’t expect him, it’s where they found Tharkay again. This was a relief. Temeraire strongly believed that having him around reduced the changes of either men dying and he took it as a good sign that he had made the right decision. 

It was a positively refreshing change, and not just because of the cold winter that greeted them. Everything smelled and looked different. The positive effects were immediate. Within the first week of arriving, Laurence had his first full night of sleep and by the time they found a house, he could at least manage four hours of uninterrupted sleep before a nightmare shook him out of it. On the nights he did stay awake, it was with Tharkay curled against him, successfully keeping him by his side so he would, at least, rest.

The political landscape was also new and fascinating:Temeraire vaguely knew the Indigenous Canadians had allied, taking advantage of the turmoil in Europe, and successfully kicked out the British and the French not long after Napoleon’s abdication. However, Temeraire quickly reminded himself that, outside of outright war, the second source of trouble for Laurence had been his own political inclinations and he dutifully stayed away.

Instead he found a job at a bookshop and occupied his free time with reading and furnishing their new house. More than once, he almost modelled it to Tharkay’s estate but decided this carried the risk of triggering some memories so instead he went over the top with the current fashion. Laurence found a job as a guide at a maritime museum and Tharkay worked as a private detective. Thanks to a recent minimum wage law, their combined salaries were enough for them to be comfortable. It was a lot to adapt to, but they were used to that. Above all else, their first year was quiet and Temeraire breathed a sigh of relief.

It was harder to stay idle the second year, but he held firm. He turned down all of Laurence’s suggestions to attend a political event or conference and removed all political theory from his reading material, focusing instead on mathematics and poetry. Laurence’s insistence was a bit odd, but then again, he was the one person in the world who knew him best. Temeraire just wished he were less perceptive of his moods, it really would make pretending everything was fine easier. 

One November evening, Temeraire overheard Tharkay and Laurence as they came back from one of their date nights. Temeraire was dozing over a book but woke up at the sound of his name. Tharkay and Laurence were standing at the entrance of his pavilion, shapes outlined by the light from the street and Laurence was looking very handsome in the beautiful blue winter coat Temeraire had gifted him upon their arrival to Canada. They had not realised he was awake.

“He just seems… unhappy,” whispered Laurence, “He’s lost interest in everything but flying over the countryside and reading poetry, I don’t know what to do.”

He sounded so sad about it, Temeraire almost made himself known to tell him it wasn’t so. But that would mean admitting he had _overheard_ them and having a conversation Temeraire knew he was avoiding. They were all tired, after all, tonight was not the time, surely. He was saved from making a decision by Tharkay, who, after a moment of silence, leaned forward to press his and Laurence’s shoulders together. He pushed his arm into Laurence’s and held on to his hand, squeezing it in comfort as he started leading him away and towards their adjacent apartment.

“He will come out of it in time, just believe in him,” he said, “Sometimes someone you love is unhappy and there is nothing you can do but let them know they are not alone.”

Temeraire saw Laurence’s shoulders sag slightly but couldn’t hear his reply as the pair entered their living area, leaving him alone, a stone at the bottom of his heart. The last thing Temeraire wanted was for Laurence to think himself inadequate when he had done more than enough where Temeraire only brought him misfortune. When the door connecting his pavilion to Laurence’s and Tharkay’s house opened a few minutes later, he hurried to lift a wing in welcome and nuzzled Laurence softly as he settled on his foreleg. He would have to find a way to show Laurence that he was perfectly fine, and so he would happy.

The next time Laurence asked him to accompany him to a dinner in town, Temeraire accepted. He had stopped wondering a long time ago how Laurence got himself invited to all these events, after all he knew that despite how much Laurence preferred to keep to himself, he also thoroughly enjoyed social events. At one time, so had Temeraire.

He didn’t dare ask too many questions, not wanting to seem reluctant, so he was pleasantly surprised by the rustic restaurant, with its stone walls and wooden tables, lit with small lamps shaped like candles which left the room in semi-obscurity. It was an old warehouse, big enough to allow for room for a few heavyweights dragons, which was extremely convenient for winter.

Laurence was led to a table on the upper balcony of the restaurant, with other humans, and Temeraire was relieved to find that if he lifted his head from his own seat, Laurence would be at eye-level with him. It was an ingenious set-up which allowed for both dragons and humans to eat in the same room. Laurence smiled encouragingly at him once they were settled, so Temeraire, feeling more at ease, turned to the menu. The options made him positively salivate.

“I would recommend the lamb chops,” said a voice beside him.

Temeraire lifted his head and was met by another guest settling in next to him. The pascal’s blue looked very familiar and for a moment, Temeraire thought this was merely a trick of the dim candlelight until she introduced herself.

“My name is Perscitia II,” she inclined her head politely, “You are new to our group, are you not? What is your name?”

All thoughts of a nice social evening scattered from Temeraire’s head as he processed the meaning of Perscitia II’s presence. The first Perscitia hadn’t liked socialising for socialising’s sake in her first life, preferring to make use of her time with events of a political nature, and Temeraire’s instincts told him that hadn’t changed for her descendants. Six lives worth of practice made his instincts pretty good in the matter. 

“I am Temeraire,” he replied reluctantly, not wanting to be rude. His voice sounded strangled even to his own ears, and he cleared his throat, “I came with Laurence.”

She glanced at Laurence’s table where another woman had joined him, and her eyes glinted with recognition.

“Ah yes! Welcome. The rest of the attendants should be here shortly.”

And indeed, as soon as the other guests were seated and had placed their order, his suspicions were confirmed. The conversation turned heated very quickly on the subject of upcoming elections.

“Socialism is the first step to a sustainable way of life for both human and dragons!”

Running out so early would be rude and would do nothing to assuage Laurence’s worries, which had been the whole reason he accepted to come out. So Temeraire resolved to stay and keep his head down. Besides, he had to admit the conversation was extremely interesting. It would not hurt to listen a little bit…

The table seemed very divided on the idea of socialism. Perscitia II had a good amount of followers, but not everyone liked what she was saying. Leading the charge of dragons who disagreed with her was a green and grey heavyweight who snorted derisively at everything she said.

“You want us to be like those damned communists in Russia! Sharing our wealth! And our captains!”

This caught Temeraire’s attention, “Share captains?” He recoiled in horror, “Oh! Of all the outrageous things!”

He cast a suspicious glance at Perscitia II, wondering what could possibly have pushed her to such extremist views and suddenly felt the urge to check on Laurence, bracing himself to intervene should someone try to snatch him.

“That is not what I mean!” snapped Perscitia II. “Russia is an extreme example due to the enormous disparity of wealth and companions between heavyweights and lightweights, it does not apply here!”

She also leaned back, glancing possessively at her own companion. The humans were deep in their own conversation and unaware of the tension amongst their dragons. Laurence, Temeraire noted happily, had his practiced ‘dinner party’ composure, as Tenzing liked to call it, but seemed perfectly relaxed. 

“What I propose,” continued Perscitia, “is a system where no such disparity would ever be possible again because everyone would have the same opportunities.”

The more Temeraire listened, the more he liked what she was saying and before he knew it, they made plans to meet the next day to discuss petitioning the government on its education budget. He went home in a great mood that night. This little outing had invigorated him and a slew of ideas had already sprung to mind that he wanted to share. He was slightly embarrassed however to realise how lacking his knowledge of current news was. He had not opened a paper or a political text in years and the landscape had changed rather drastically since. It had been easier to stay in complete ignorance than to read up on a world he could never join. 

He decided to buy himself the morning paper to peruse whilst having his breakfast, but his newly found energy left him somewhere on the way to the newspaper stand. He could not bring himself to go up to the seller, and stayed frozen in front of the stand, staring unseeing at the glossy magazines and freshly printed journals shivering in the wind. That day’s headline was innocuous enough: a local politician was stepping down for corruption allegations. But didn’t everything start harmlessly enough? A simple cold, helping out an old friend, enlisting out of habit, trying to keep a dear one alive…

It all ended with Temeraire pushing too far and everything crumbling.

He turned back empty-handed to hide in his pavilion, burying himself in the pile of pillows he had accumulated in these last years of idleness. Laurence came to find him an hour later, having expected him to be out and about already. 

“Dearest? Are you not going to be late… for your meeting?”

Laurence hesitated when he saw him, obviously not expecting to find him in this state and this time made no effort to hide his concern. He crouched on the pillows in front of Temeraire and caressed him softly on the nose. Temeraire knew he was prepared to wait him out as long as required, and from beneath his pile of blankets, finally admitted to himself that he could no longer hide. This was a conversation that he would have to face. 

“I’ve cancelled,” he sighed

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Perfectly, yes. I have simply decided I do not want to get involved in politics.”

He tried to sound more convinced then he felt, but the words sounded fake even to his own ears now that he said them out loud. Laurence looked at him, perplexed.

“Was is the dinner? It was only meant to be an informal exchange of ideas which I thought might interest you, but if something happened-”

“No, no the dinner was delightful.”

More than that even, it had made Temeraire feel ready to take on the world like he had been in Laurence’s first life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

“It has a tendency to get messy, I do not want that. I just want you, Tharkay and I to have a quiet life, where we can be happy.”

“But you are not happy,” insisted Laurence, “at least, you don’t seem to be completely satisfied and it kills me not to know why. There is something you are not telling me, no?”

Five lives worth of somethings yes, but that, Temeraire was determined never to mention again. He didn’t know what he could possibly say without mentioning the five previous lives he had dragged Laurence through, only to have a few moments more of happiness. He did not want to risk resurrecting the nightmares, now that they had finally settled down, but he didn’t know how to explain that he had already been selfish. Laurence took his silence as approval and pushed forward.

“My dear, you are not a creature to remain idle. You and I both know that it is far worst to live with a guilty conscience than to bear the consequence of acting against injustice.”

Those words struck a chord within Temeraire and he was reminded of the first time Laurence had chosen to stand with him against injustice and the price he had paid for it. The more stubborn part of himself reminded him that Laurence wouldn’t have gone along with it if he hadn’t believed it to be the right thing to do too. 

“Of course, I do not want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do,” continued Laurence, “If politics are of no interest to you then I wouldn’t want you to force yourself, but…”

He leaned his forehead on the soft part of Temeraire’s nose, “I don’t want you to hold yourself back for my sake. I am and always have been with you, whatever it is you want to do.”

Knowing Laurence, Temeraire knew this would be the last he heard of the matter, the man having already insisted beyond the boundaries of what he considered appropriate. But his words did make Temeraire thaw slightly and he decided they were certainly worth considering.

“Well, I suppose keeping myself up to date with politics wouldn’t harm anyone,” he admitted, trying to sound casual when a burst of excitement was already simmering within him. Laurence’s whole posture seemed to melt with relief, and he settled down against him.

A few weeks later, Temeraire published his first article under a pen name in the opinions column of the _Daily Gazette_ newspaper entitled “Socialism: the sensible alternative to communism in modern day society”. He was delighted to receive a few letters in response, and had a very pleasant time with Tharkay coming up with responses to the more rude ones as Laurence sat watching, trying to restrain himself from offering more polite alternatives.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough, for now, and for the first time since waking up he could finally breathe.

-SEVEN-

The 7th life started with Laurence’s kidnapping by none other than Temeraire himself. There really wasn’t any tactful way to put it. This was all the fault of Laurence’s parents with their weirdly backwards beliefs on the relationship between dragons and humans.

They had not been very happy when Laurence came back one day with Temeraire in tow, and had been less than cooperative in allowing him in their lives. Technically, they had done the kidnapping first since as soon as they saw the chance they shipped Laurence off to a mental institution – one that wasn’t particularly legal since it focused more on keeping its ‘guests’ locked away then on proper therapy.

Temeraire did not let this pass. He managed to convince Tharkay to help him stage a jail break and together they moved to the other side of the country. So, strictly speaking he did not commit any crimes since Laurence was already 20, fully in possession in his capabilities and very unwilling to be locked away in any sort of institution.

Still, the experience triggered something. Temeraire first noticed it the day of the rescue. He landed at Tharkay’s home in London and helped the two men off his back. It was the middle of winter, so Tharkay hurried to go unlock the door of the pavilion so they could quickly go inside, but Laurence… stood there. He turned to face Temeraire and looked at him, an indescribable look on his face, almost as if seeing him for the first time. He lifted a hand to Temeraire’s nose and whispered his name but whatever it was lasted barely a moment before flickering out just as quickly as it came. Tharkay reappeared and ushered them both inside.

Temeraire dismissed it as the result of his incarceration, and indeed for the first few months nothing else happened. They quickly settled in their usual rhythm, something that had gotten easier with each passing lives. Tharkay started working as a museum curator, where he mostly took pleasure in sending back stolen artifacts to their countries of origin, and Laurence worked on finishing his training as a high school teacher.

Temeraire finally sat down to write another book, something he had been wanting to do again ever since his _History of the Dragon Sickness_ got published in the second life and now seemed like a good time to finally get around to it, especially since he wasn’t exactly young anymore. He toyed with the idea of an autobiography, took a liking to short stories, detoured to political treaties before finally settling for a fantasy series where a dragonet had to save his companion from an evil witch with some time travel thrown in the mix… He will not admit to any vindictive feelings whatsoever.

His first two books of the _Adventures of a Dragonet _series (_Katherine flies over Britain; _and_ Katherine goes to china_) had a tremendous success and he quickly became a star in the world of children authors. His third book however …

“I take it the book is going well,” said Tharkay’s voice from somewhere near his head.

Temeraire did not bother to move. He was sprawled on his back in the grass, wondering if ants ever got cold or if they just died before realising they were cold. He sighed, mournfully. 

“Nothing I write is original. I have no ideas left. I will never write again.”

He squinted his eyes open. Tharkay raised an eyebrow at him.

“You said that for your two previous books too.”

“This time it’s for real. I just can’t decide where I want her to go next!” he said, petulantly

“Almost 200 countries in the world and you can’t decide on one?”

Tharkay’s genuine amusement was plain on his face where, once upon a time it would have been cautious, masked. Temeraire loved seeing him happy like this. Meeting a Tharkay who’d had a good childhood was perhaps one of the few good things coming out of this mess of resurrections. The thought sparked a match in his head. He twisted over and nudged Tharkay in thanks, bowling him over with his enthusiasm, and rushed off to write. 

His third book: _Katherine in Nepal _was, unsurprisingly, Tharkay’s favourite. 

He had almost completely forgotten the incident when it happened _again_, the first week after Laurence started teaching English at the local high school. He came home that Friday evening, looking out of sorts, dazed and unresponsive when Temeraire called his name. He headed straight for the kitchen, filled the kettle with water, but then just stood there, staring at it. Worried, Temeraire checked Laurence for some sort of head injury – cars were a real hazard these days, really humans were better off sticking to dragons – but he was physically, perfectly fine. When his prodding finally elicited a reaction Laurence gave him that _look _again.

“How long has it _been_?” He asked.

The look flickered out again before Temeraire could figure out what he meant. Laurence turned the kettle on and got his tea and his cup from the cupboard.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, noticing Temeraire staring at him.

“Not at all, how was your day?”

Talking about his new students always put Laurence in the sort of happy but exasperated mood of all teachers - ´it is only the first week, how could Michael’s notebook already be missing?´ - but it turned out that today had been a particularly good day because Laurence had finally met the _delightful _art teacher, one Mr. John Granby.

Temeraire’s heart made a happy jump at the news that Granby was back and it somewhat erased his worries. It made sense that meeting someone from the first life would trigger something… even if it had never happened before. Granby and Laurence had been very close, after all. It was nothing to worry about.

Except it kept happening.

Sometimes it was that look again, others it was more concrete things. One moment Laurence was reading the mathematics of astrophysics, but the next he was reciting Principia Matematica. One morning, he almost left late because he could not find his _sword_.

Temeraire panicked a little bit, and kept him under close scrutiny after that. The episodes followed no obvious pattern, and never lasted more than a minute. Laurence could go on for days without a single one, but then have several in one day. The only warning was that Laurence would start fidgeting with the dragon witch’s pendant, rubbing it between his fingers, almost like he was trying to scratch an itch.

On more than one occasion, Temeraire tried to hide the pendant. He dared not get rid of it completely because he feared Laurence would lose his remaining lives if he did, but he chose corners he knew would not normally be accessible to humans. Under the stones of his pavilion, in the crevasse of a cliff, even in a hidden cache in one of his books. It was truly a hassle manipulating such a tiny object, made only more frustrating by the fact that it did not work. Every time, the pendant reappeared somehow, once Temeraire even found it tucked to a strap of his harness.

Unbelievable.

The dragon witch was of course not an option for answers, and yet Temeraire urgently needed some. He decided to ask for advice to the second most sensible man he knew next to Laurence.

“Tharkay? What would you do if you found a mysterious object and wanted to learn more about it?”

Tharkay paused from his gardening and regarded him with suspicion.

“What kind of object?” he asked.

“Just any object. Hypothetically, a piece of jewelry,” Temeraire remained deliberately vague. 

Laurence’s behavior would not be particularly worrying to anyone without all of the background information, so Temeraire did not want to start worrying Tharkay for no reason when there was still a possibility he could solve the issue himself.

“Depending on how old it is, I would say either a jeweler or a museum curator. May I ask what this is about?”

A strange note in his voice gave Temeraire pause. He looked at Tharkay more closely and yes, yes! There it was! That same damned flicker, here a moment and gone the next.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, “just something I need for my book.”

He fled after that, fully aware that the explanation didn’t hold up, but there was no time. He needed to get the pendant examined for more information.

The side effects were spreading.

He eventually tracked down a specialist in ‘dragon witchcraft in the 19th century’ which seemed extremely specific but was exactly what he needed. The fact that this specialist happened to live in London was also just a big coincide. Temeraire wouldn’t complain about getting a bit lucky and successfully arranged for a meeting. The specialist was a jade dragon called Stacy. They met at the tea pavilion of the university where she was teaching and she became positively ecstatic when Temeraire showed her the pendant.

“How wonderful, yes, yes, this looks exactly like the pendant in my books,” she turned it around, tracing the diamonds one by one with the tip of her talon. “Pray, where did you find it?”

“I have just… always had it.”

She scrutinized him for a moment then laughed loudly, a high pitched laugh.

“How wonderful! So you truly are alive!”

The denial on the tip of his tongue was automatic, but Stacy clicked her talons at him and did not pause for his rebuttal.

“I knew when I saw your name that it could not be a coincidence. Were you aware that you’re an urban legend, Temeraire?”

Temeraire was extremely pleased by that, flattered even, but again, Stacy did not let him bathe in the moment and continued with enthusiasm-

“It makes sense, now, I hadn’t realised the two were connected!”

She pulled out a stack of notes from her bag and started flicking through them, seeming to forget his presence, switching from rapid talking to deep, contemplative silence so fast it gave Temeraire the equivalent of whiplash.

“I am not sure I understand,” he said, getting her attention.

“I did not choose London for nothing, you know,” she said, not looking up from her notes, “I am interested in a particular witch and it is said that her most powerful spell was done here, in England.”

Ah. So not really a coincidence then.

“A few years ago, we uncovered the logs of a witch dragon where she documented having created some sort of experimental immortality spell and where she describes this exact pendant. I should have known that the stories about your still being alive after all this time were connected to this spell!”

Well that wasn’t exactly accurate. But for the first time in forever, here was someone who actually knew and could understand what he was talking about, so Temeraire saw no reason to hide the truth and he told her everything. About his meeting with the witch, Laurence’s loss of memory, the side effects that resulted in other people sometimes being brought back. Stacy listened intently, humming in agreement, astonishment and satisfaction.

“And now, I need answers. I am not sure what is happening, I thought Laurence could not remember beyond a few dreams, but now he is having those… moments where he seems to know exactly what is going on.”

Temeraire paused in his speech, momentarily distracted by the light of the setting sun against the pavement as he flicked his tail anxiously.

“I am worried his remembering will have negative side effects,” he admitted finally.

Stacy nodded. She herself had a companion, and faced with his concerns she immediately switched from attentive audience to professional.

“From what I understand of my research into the witch’s writing, she expected the pendant’s carrier to retain all of their memories.”

Temeraire snorted at that.

“But this was also the first time she ever tried something of the sort. My theory is she made a mistake and didn’t quite understand or take into account the differences between human and dragon brains.”

“But is it dangerous?”

At this point, he had been living with the witches’ mistake for 7 lives and he had accepted it. He had even accepted his own responsibility in the matter. But the only thing that made it all bearable was that Laurence was not in any real danger. He would never forgive himself if he were.

Stacy handed him back the pendant.

“Magic is a fickle thing. I didn’t even realise until today that it was possible to such an extent. I can’t be sure, but the spell was created for life, and for health and your companion was healthy in all his previous lives, so I am inclined to think that what’s happening is his mind finally accommodating to the situation.”

All hypothetical. Temeraire dipped his head.

“I am sorry, if that is not what you wanted to hear.”

He flew back home and found Laurence waiting for him on the steps of his pavilion. He immediately stood up when Temeraire landed and by the way he was holding himself, back and shoulders straight, Temeraire could tell that he was having another episode. After the disappointment of the day, the timing wasn’t ideal and he braced himself for the moment when the deeper recognition would slip away again.

But Laurence stepped forward and hugged him tight around the foreleg, leaning against him with his entire body.

“My Dear,” he sighed, “I am so very happy you are here.”

The sight could be comical, a small human clinging to a heavyweight’s leg, but the words coupled with the warmth of Laurence’s body against his scales made Temeraire weak with satisfaction and he slumped to the ground, curling himself about Laurence with a soft keening sound. They stayed together quietly until Temeraire eventually managed to speak up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Confused mostly, and with somewhat of a headache.”

“What do you remember?” he dared to ask.

“Mostly… the first one. The rest is still rather of a blur.”

In the beginning, he had dreamed of this moment, of what he would say when Laurence regained his memories. But that was before everything went so wrong. He wasn’t sure the good memories outnumbered the bad ones now, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. But there was no knowing whether this lucidity would last and there were some things he could not bear to leave unsaid.

“Laurence, I am so very sorry.”

Laurence laughed softly and moved even closer.

“This may be one of your wildest ideas yet, my dear,” he said, “but, there is nothing to forgive. I am so very glad to have you here.”

Laurence closed his eyes, pressing his forehead tightly against his scales. When he lifted his head again, the moment had passed. The next morning, Laurence got ready and left for work with only one life worth of memories, as if the evening before had never come to pass.

In many ways, the rest of this life was quiet. Not literally, of course. Temeraire was quick to find out taht Granby had just come about a Kazilik dragon also named Iskierka who at a week old had already inherited her namesake’s temper. Howeverm whislt that was certainly a source of chaos, there were no more surprises in store, unpleasant or otherwise. Laurence’s episodes kept coming and going and occasionally, Tharkay surprised him with one too. Temeraire could not make up his mind whether this sporadic awareness was better than none at all, but most days he indeed considered himself happy.

It was comforting to be reunited with an old friend. Even if said friend was _obnoxious _and still intent on stealing his food. It was nice to see Granby and Laurence reunited too, the two men unconsciously falling into their old manners. Laurence quickly discovered it was better to go along with Granby's adventures from the beginning, since in all likelihood he would have to go pick him up at the hospital or an infirmary anyways. It quickly became tradition to have Granby - and later even Little - spend the summer with them at the Estate.

One of Temeraire’s favourite traditions in this life was their annual outing at the summer pride festival.

This year, Temeraire had painted his talons in the colours of the rainbow and gotten a beautiful shawl with all the different flags that looked absolutely gorgeous against his black hide. Laurence, after some wheedling from both Granby and Temeraire, had accepted to have his hair plaited with purple, white, grey and black ribbons but otherwise held his ground and came in a plain white shirt and black trousers. Tharkay kept it simple but very efficient with a black ‘Let me be straight about one thing – I’m not’ T-shirt and lose trousers.

After a long and absolutely wonderful day, Laurence, Tharkay and Temeraire were given the task of finding the perfect spot to watch the fireworks whilst Iskierka, Granby, and Little bought them more food and drinks. They took over an area towards the center of the bridge with an ideal view of the river and Temeraire made himself as big as possible, spreading his wings and tail to save enough space as a crowd of people and dragons made their own camps around them. The heavy sun of the day had set, leaving in its stead a cool evening breeze. Laurence and Tharkay spread their blanket on the ground and sat together, leaning on Temeraire’s bulk for warmth. Although there was much to see around them, Temeraire could not take his eyes off them, almost overwhelmed by happiness. 

Laurence handed Tharkay his jacket to shield him from the wind, their shoulders brushing affectionately, a habit that had carried across entire lifetimes. Their head were bowed towards each other, Tharkay pointing out the different constellations in the sky as they blinked into view: Orion, Scorpius, Celestial... Temeraire was coaxed back into their discussion when Tharkay pointed out the Sea Serpent constellation. This led Temeraire to tell them a story about sea serpents – the story of their very own encounter with them in New South Wales, back in their first life, actually – when Laurence looked up at him with that particular look of recognition in his eyes. Temeraire paused to nuzzle him close. Embraced the moment that truly could not be more perfect.

He could not for the life of him figure out why he had ever wanted Laurence to stay ignorant and to never remember. He tried to ignore the pinch in his chest, the complicated knot of grief and frustration when Laurence’s memories retreated again. Still, it was hard to stay sad when Laurence never ceased to look at him with adoration, even without 7 lives worth of memories to back him up.

He laughed when Granby reappeared, dragging a flushed and disheveled Little by the hand, and promptly poured a bag of glitter on Laurence and Tharkay. The four men settled on the blanket against him, and Iskierka perched herself on his back. They watched as the sky exploded with colours, the sounds echoing in Temeraire’s heart as he bathed in the moment.

-EIGHT- 

“I don’t understand why you would want to fly in a plane. I can easily come and pick you up.”

“There have been some delays at work,” said Tharkay, over the video call, “I can only make the trip back a day later than planned.”

“Well that’s no problem at all, I’ll just change my day off at work.”

“That is not the issue, my dear,” said Laurence, very gently, “it would mean travelling the day before the gala and it’s quite a long flight for you so we thought it would be… easier if Tharkay were to come back by plane.”

Temeraire squinted critically at the two men, Laurence standing in front of him holding up the tablet with Tharkay on the other line. He should have known they were up to something the moment Laurence asked if he was free for Tharkay to give them a call. Tharkay was not overly attached to his phone, even if his job as an interpreter and translator for the United Nations required him to travel often. His daily text updates were entirely for Temeraire and Laurence’s benefit and video calls only happened once in a blue moon when absolutely necessary.

“Are you saying I’m too slow?” He cried, betrayed.

“Yes,” replied Tharkay, in the space of Laurence’s guilty silence, “No offense meant.”

Offense was very much taken.

“I can still fly the distance!”

“And we have no doubt about that,” hurried to say Laurence, “It’s just that our case has been taking quite a lot of your time and energy already so we figured why make you go there and back when it could only be a one way flight?”

“Also, it would be faster,” added Tharkay, merciless.

Temeraire threw him a resentful glare over the video and Tharkay’s amused smile softened into a sympathetic one.

“Listen, Temeraire, you know nothing will beat flying with you,” he promised, “but I would rather spare you a trip that we all know will be mostly tiring and not at all pleasant.”

Temeraire knew he meant it because Tharkay did not waste sentiments on words he didn’t believe. He could also see the way Laurence looked at him, unwilling to hurt his feelings but hoping he would accept. There really was nothing Temeraire could refuse to the two most precious people he had in this world.

“Fine.”

Despite his protests, Temeraire was very much aware he was getting old. It would have been a pleasant realisation normally – others were a lot more willing to consider his suggestions ‘wise’ rather than ‘eccentric’ now – but it made him very aware of all the countdowns getting closer to hitting 0. This penultimate life had been another blank slate. No memories, dreams or episodes in any shape, so Temeraire had wanted to make the most of it, spend every minute like it was the last. His waning energy made that difficult at times.

So, yes, not being able to bring Tharkay home in time for them to go to the annual Charity Gala of the Police Department has stung a little bit but now that they were here, he was willing to admit it had been the right decision.

Two hours in and he was already sleepy. Much like Laurence, he used to be a real social butterfly and could easily last the night but these days he usually ended up half asleep in a corner with the other dozing elder dragons and humans. But Temeraire still enjoyed going to these events with Laurence, even if he had to take a nap beforehand, because Laurence’s enthusiasm was a pleasant reminder of his youth. That thought, coincidentally, also made him feel old.

Tonight however, he’d had to skip his usual pre-socialising nap. For the past few months, they had been on the trail of an elusive criminal organisation that managed to force dragons to run their activities by keeping their human companion hostage. This was unfortunately nothing new, but what made it worse was how they turned it into an industry by kidnapping human children and dragons still in their egg so even the companionship would be created in captivity. Just thinking about the sort of life these victims were forced to lead left an ashen taste in his mouth and, of course, tended to make him clingier. But what reasonable dragon wouldn’t be?

Temeraire himself was just a consultant with the organised crime division but even then he had been needed almost 24h/7 ever since they had finally caught a break, 3 days ago and managed to rescue both a recently kidnapped child and the newly-hatched dragonet he had bonded with. Both were in the hospital for now, the child having suffered broken bones and the dragonet recovering from a brand, shaped like a teardrop, newly seared into his skin.

They were working as quickly as possible, before the group had time to move on, which meant full days at work. On top of that, Temeraire had insisted to at the very least go pick up Tharkay from the airport which had only left them an hour to get ready and leave for the gala.

So here they were. Temeraire watched as Laurence fluttered about the room, looking very handsome in his new suit indeed, making small talk with colleagues and friends and even being pulled to charm some donors. Tharkay shadowed him closely and occasionally threw an affectionate glance in Temeraire’s direction. They both looked relaxed, but Temeraire knew Laurence was busy trying to convince their superior officers to give more men to their unit. Temeraire was sure he had everything under control and was perfectly content to just watch them and doze off peacefully.

Movement at the corner of his eye startled him awake.

There was an unfamiliar brown middle weight dragon making his way slowly across the room, ducked close to ground as he moved past the dragons and towards the center where most the humans stood, eyes fixed on Laurence and the rest of his team the whole time. A prickle of alarm ran along Temeraire’s spine. He lifted himself off the ground, catching the other’s attention. Their eyes met and time stopped to a standstill.

The dragon lunged forward, abandoning all caution to run with startling speed towards his targets. Temeraire immediately bounded after him, talons digging grooves into the floor as he jumped forward and knocked him off his path. The crowd split around them, a practiced move after centuries of cohabitation, allowing Temeraire to jump forward again. He growled when he slipped as he tried to pin the smaller dragon down, the space too small to spread his wings, and caught him by his back leg instead. This threw him off balance long enough for a fellow police dragon to step in and catch him by the neck, preventing any further movement.

Temeraire allowed himself a sigh of relief as others took over the arrest. A murmur of confusion travelled around the room, but most people present were seasoned law officers and acted quickly. As the middleweight got escorted out of the room, Temeraire noticed the teardrop branded just above his heart. Then screams exploded across the room again.

“He’s got a gun!”

A single gunshot resonated in the air and the sound still made Temeraire’s blood freeze with fear, even 3 lives later. He immediately looked around, searching for Laurence and Tharkay. He saw a man being tackled to the ground, a small firearm being wrestled from his grasp, and just beyond him Tharkay was on the ground. A puddle of blood was slowly spreading under him. Laurence was bent over him, hands pressed at his side and covered in blood as he shouted.

“Someone call an ambulance!”

The last time he had been in a hospital, Laurence had been in a coma and had lost the use of his legs. Temeraire hoped, _hoped _this was a worst case scenario, hoped that with the advancements in medical technology over the years, dealing with a gunshot wound was easy. They could adapt easily to life in a wheelchair, but the idea of a life without Tharkay was inconceivable. They had so little time left.

They were stuck in the waiting room, a pavilion large enough to accommodate a dozen heavyweights and completely empty except for the heated stones of the floor and a few plastic chairs for humans. Temeraire’s tail lashed behind him restlessly. In this moment, he would have loved to see the middleweight and his accomplice again, to distract himself from the helplessness of waiting, just to rip the _whys _and _hows _and _whos_ out of them. But as per protocol, since someone close to him had been a victim, he was not allowed in the same room as the suspects.

He kept Laurence as close to him as possible. He looked pale and tired, but would periodically stand up to pace before returning to Temeraire’s forearm. A nurse had given him a wet towel to wash his hands but the sleeves of his nice suit were still covered in dried blood. Just as anxious to keep himself busy, he often pulled out his phone, waiting for any update from work. Eventually, it seemed someone took pity and the phone rang.

“Laurence and Temeraire,” he answered quickly.

“I’ve got some good news for you folks that might be of some comfort,” said George, Laurence’s partner on the case. 

The human suspect was talking. The attack had been nothing more than an attempt to scare them off the scent. He was a new recruit in the group – apparently called _The Balaur _– and the hit was supposed to be his rite of entry. He had nothing to lose, now that he had failed, recruitment was very much a win or die affair. Temeraire felt he should feel some amount of pity or worry for this man, who was talking despite a dangerous group probably being after him but in that moment, it went against his every instinct and he simply could not bring himself to it. This man had attacked them, this man had put Tharkay in the hospital. He put aside that complex ball of emotion for later. If Tharkay made it out ok.

The good news was the man had information that could potentially lead them to the captured dragon’s companion and rescuing _him _would open insights into this _Balaur _group that had been out of reach before. And for the first time since the investigation started, they finally had rumours of a name for the mastermind of the operation.

“General Fela?” Growled Temeraire.

“You know of him?”

“The name sounds familiar…” said Laurence, surprisingly.

The titular frown of confusion made its appearance on his face, but he eventually just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Temeraire allowed himself a huff of frustration. This was the last thing he needed and General Fela could not even make himself useful by triggering some memories.

They put an end to the call when they noticed a human nurse marching their way. His face gave nothing away to Temeraire and he forced himself not to panic. He and Laurence stood to attention.

_Please, please, please, please. _

“He got quite lucky. The bullet went clean through, no major organs were hit and the surgery went without complications. He’s expected to wake up soon,” declared the man, clinically satisfied.

“He’s going to be ok?” Repeated Laurence, words sounding almost choked.

“Yes.”

They eased simultaneously in relief. Temeraire let his eyes fall shut and felt Laurence’s tight posture melt against him. Sympathy flashed in the eyes of the nurse and he waved them forward. 

“Now, if you would follow me…”

Tharkay had been given a room at the far end of the hospital, where the windows were purposefully big enough for a heavyweight to slip their head in. They were quickly reassured that this was standard procedure after surgery and that he would be moved to the more comfortable rooms, directly in a pavilion, in 24 hours. As Laurence followed the nurse from the inside of the building, Temeraire quickly flew to the window.

It was a simple room, with nothing but a lonely chair, some medical equipment and a bed. Tharkay was on it, breathing slowly, hands curled on his chest. Temeraire fixated on that steady rise and fall movement as finally the last drop of adrenaline left him. He leaned his head against the frame of the window for support just as the door opened and Laurence stepped in. To Temeraire’s confusion, he froze at the entrance and gasped.

On the bed, Tharkay opened sleepy eyes and started laughing.

“_Déjà Vu_,” he wheezed as Laurence rushed towards him.

His hands hovered nervously over Tharkay’s body, unsure what to do to help him catch his breath, before settling on his cheeks, gently framing Tharkay’s face. Laurence stared at him as if he were seeing him for the first time.

“_Tenzing,” _he said.

Then he turned towards Temeraire, eyes clear with recognition.

“_Temeraire, _my dear – ”

Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, or the tilt in his voice but no matter, it struck Temeraire like a bullet in his heart. Laurence and Tharkay remembered.

“Laurence!” he cried.

He pushed his head further inside the room, desperate to be closer and thankfully, Laurence was of the same mind. He went around the bed and plastered his entire body against his muzzle. Temeraire waited with baited breath for it to fade again, even as it lasted an entire hour, where they managed to stay awake and talking. Eventually, exhaustion won, but Temeraire still didn’t close his eyes all night, watching the both of them sleep, Laurence awkwardly squeezed next to Tharkay on the bed, as close as possible without disturbing him.

The next morning, when Laurence woke up, he stared at the ceiling for a minute before turning to Temeraire, confused.

“Was I really friends with Napoleon’s grandson?” He asked and at Tharkay’s soft chuckle wrinkled his nose at him “Were you really his lawyer?”

They still remembered two weeks later when Tharkay was discharged and they brought him home, to his estate, so hard won, and still theirs after so long. Tharkay nodded to himself, satisfied when he crossed the threshold, Laurence supporting him by the elbow.

“My cousins must be rolling over in their graves right now,” he joked. 

They still remembered a month later, when both Laurence and Temeraire took a week off to accompany Tharkay back to Vienna, the trip carefully planned to avoid the beaches of Normandy.

And a year later, when they finally caught up with General Fela and Laurence still remembered, he was even comfortable enough to sigh, long suffering.

“Here we go again,” he told Temeraire, as he stepped inside the interrogation room.

In the 8th life, Temeraire had _Laurence _and _Tharkay_ back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, I hope you enjoyed part 2! Now there is only a short epilogue left where our boys have a final heart to heart to wrap it all up!
> 
> As usual, you can find me on tumblr:
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe! See you next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter at last! I didn’t make you guys wait 6 months this time which is progress!
> 
> I also did some edits in chapters 1 and 2, to get rid of typos, polish some sentences, the whole shebang. Both chapters are in better shape if you want to re-read. 
> 
> This last life is 100% fluff, I hope you all enjoy!

-NINE- 

The moment earth came into view, the itch at the back of Laurence’s head made itself known again. It wasn’t necessarily painful, but it was uncomfortable enough it almost made him change his mind and decide to stay on the starship instead of going planet-side. However, Admiral Roland had threatened in no uncertain terms to jettison him if he didn’t use his vacation days, and he had promised Tharkay he would come down with him. 

It had admittedly been too long since he’d been on earth. Being a starship captain was a convenient excuse to avoid going back, there was always something to keep him busy and now especially, it was hard to keep track of the time passing, ever since a group of Chinese Imperials had invented the drive for intergalactic travel. To Laurence, he’d been in space for a mere five years, but dozens had gone by on earth. 

Perhaps he was overdue for a visit. Besides, Laurence wanted to go down with Tharkay, and spend some quiet time together. In the two years they had been partners, they hadn’t had a full day just to themselves and the idea of doing something as mundane as groceries with Tharkay was thrilling. 

So Laurence forced himself to ignore his discomfort, left the starship in the hands of his second in command and stepped onto the shuttle without looking back. 

It was early morning when they landed on earth. The sky was still dark and the autumn air freezing when they embarked on the train that would take them from the London Space Port to the English countryside. Even on an electromagnetic train, it was a two hour trip and Laurence took the time to find his footing again. The tall, grey buildings of the city bowed away to fields of green dotted with houses and pavilions and lazy rivers snaking amongst the trees. As Tharkay slept, arms crossed against his chest and leaning against the window, Laurence watched the sunrise slowly submerge the scenery with light. 

Earth was as beautiful as he remembered it. Earth was breathtaking. Earth still felt like home, mixed with a terrible sadness he could not shake. Earth made him feel lonely. Part of the reason why he had joined the space missions had been to try and understand why or what he was missing. No matter how much he loved life on earth, he had been unable to stay when reminders of an unknown loss were etched into the very ground. In space, that feeling didn’t completely disappear, but at least it was lessened. 

Laurence wasn’t sure if it was mere sentimentality, but he felt more at ease with Tharkay by his side. It also helped that they were here with a purpose: Tharkay had inherited a mysterious estate in the north of England and had decided it was worth a visit to see if it could be somewhere for them to retire. Knowing that he was included in Tharkay’s plans for the future sent a pleased thrill down Laurence’s spine that chased away all of his reservations. 

Brighton, Esq., the lawyer who had contacted Tharkay, was waiting in front of the house and Laurence was immediately grateful for the short rest he had gotten on the train ride. Brighton greeted him and Tharkay with enthusiasm, obviously just as curious about the origins of the estate, and they started showing Laurence and Tharkay around, unlocking doors at random and quickly rattling off the few known details about the property.

According to Brighton, it was a true legal paradox: the trust naming Tharkay as beneficiary of the property rights was an abomination and it was unknown how it ever came to exist or even remain valid for all this time.

Brighton didn’t even know who had created it for Tharkay. Their firm had a hard time tracking any of the previous owners and all they knew for certain was that it had been the property of an English gentleman, his good friend – or romantic partner! Historical records were unclear and they wouldn’t want to assume - and a heavyweight dragon, sometime in the 19th century. Laurence barely managed to swallow back a laugh when Tharkay raised a suggestive eyebrow at him. 

“All we’re missing is the dragon,” Tharkay whispered, conspiratorially. 

Laurence did not dwell on the sudden pang of longing that the comment made him feel. 

When they had satisfied some their own curiosity, Brighton led Tharkay to the kitchen to guide him through the technicalities and documents to sign. Laurence meant to follow, but found himself distracted when they walked past the central staircase. They hadn’t visited upstairs yet. Just how big was this house? 

He was halfway up the stairs before he could properly think, Brighton and Tharkay’s voices fading away behind him. 

The house had obviously been well loved. Laurence doubted all the materials were the original, but someone had taken care to maintain it in its original Georgian style, its wooden walls and carpeted floors perfectly preserved. Laurence half expected to get lost, but didn’t. The more he wandered, the more the corridors felt familiar and he let his feet guide him from room to room. He eventually found a small room at the very end of the corridor with a small window that gave him a direct view of the backyard, with its forest and dragon pavilion. 

It was the oddest room in the whole house so far, apparently used as storage and filled with boxes from completely different centuries. At a quick glance, Laurence spotted old fashioned cardboard boxes, the clear recycled plastic boxes of the Green Age when sustainability had become a priority, and even much, much older wooden crates. 

What really caught his eye however was an old sea chest, instantly recognisable as an original that had been coated with a similar varnish museums used to preserve artifacts. Laurence gave in to curiosity once again, kneeling on the rough floor in front of it. The chest opened easily, releasing the faint smell of dust. It was filled with letters and mementos and despite the preservation efforts, Laurence noticed some mold had managed to take root so he made sure to handle the contents with care: army tags from the world wars, an old fashioned bottle green aviator’s coat, two old diplomas from the University of King’s College London, the first with his very own name on it and the second…

Temeraire? 

The itch suddenly flared, pain piercing his head like a nail in a wall. Temeraire. He knew that name, but from where? Where had he heard that name? 

Laurence looked back at the chest, as if it hid the answer and only then noticed the simple silver amulet with nine blue diamonds shinning at the bottom. His heart stuttered in his chest and the itch turned to static. He forgot about everything else in the room, reaching out with trembling fingers to pick it up. 

Something slammed inside his head, like a shuttle doing an emergency landing and the world started spinning. He lost his balance, fell backward, felt his head bounce on the wooden floor … and sank into darkness and merciful silence. 

XX

Laurence woke up to find himself in bed instead of the floor, a headache still pounding at his temples but mind surprisingly clear. He recognised the room, although he had never used it before, not in this life, but it had been his room for most of the previous eights lives. Eight lives, each different and stranger than the previous one, but with always by his side Tharkay and - 

Confusion made way to urgency. Frantically, Laurence tried pushing himself up, the move interrupted when the room spun around him, the edges of his vision darkening, making him nauseous. Someone gently pushed him back down on the bed, wiping his brow with a cold towel. Laurence concentrated on that point of coolness until his vision cleared again, heart still beating wildly in his chest, and very careful not to move his head again, Laurence followed the line of that arm until he spotted Tharkay’s slightly blurry figure leaning above him. 

“Tenzing?” he rasped. 

“It’s me,” confirmed the other man, mercifully keeping his voice low. 

By the semi obscurity of the room, Laurence could tell it was daytime, but the curtains had been drawn to shield him from the light. Tharkay was on the chair near his bed, also looking tired but mostly relieved. Fumbling a little bit, Laurence’s hand found the pendant hanging against his chest. 

“What happened?” asked Laurence. 

“You fell ill. It’s been 5 days since we arrived here.”

It would explain why he felt so drained of energy. Eight lives worth of memories were bouncing around his head, making him terribly dizzy, but beyond that and growing stronger, the sense of urgency remained. He needed to go, he wasn’t quite sure where, but that did not matter. He needed to start moving.

He pushed himself up again, this time going as far as rolling out of bed before Tharkay could react only to promptly crumble to the ground. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” snapped Tharkay, catching him before he hit the floor. 

“I have to find Temeraire,” said Laurence. 

The door was right in front of him if only he could reach it. He would find a way from there. Laurence managed to find his feet beneath him again, but Tharkay was ready for him this time and immediately hauled him back to bed. 

“Will, Will, look at me.”

Tharkay’s hands were cool where they framed his face, trying to make him focus and Laurence leaned into the touch instinctively. His skin was crawling with the need to get up again, but he managed a few slower breaths and concentrated on the line of Tharkay’s brow and nose. 

“Temeraire will not be happy if you go to him in this state,” said Tharkay, when he saw Laurence was listening, keeping him grounded with his touch, “rest for now, we can go as soon as you can stand up.”

Only then did Laurence realise that Tharkay didn’t seem worried or surprised at the mention of Temeraire. In fact, he also looked rather pale and there were dark lines under his eyes, but his gaze was focused.

“You remember too?” asked Laurence, gripping Tharkay’s forearms. 

Back in his first life, such behavior would have him locked away in a mental institute but these were different times, a different life… and a very particular circumstance. Still, relief flooded Laurence when Tharkay nodded. It calmed him just enough and he finally relaxed against the pillows, catching one of Tharkay’s hands in his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing it gently. 

“How come you’re still standing?” asked Laurence, only slightly envious. 

Tharkay grimaced. 

“My own memories came back progressively. I assure you, my head still feels like it got stomped on by a courier dragon, but at least I was spared the full fever.” 

Tharkay smoothed a hand over his brow again, then smiled, eyes lighting up playfully.

“Nine Lives and I am still picking up after you,” he said, teasing. 

Laurence snorted in response, making the pain in his head spike, briefly. He could not help smiling as he closed his eyes, however, refusing to let go of Tharkay’s hand. His blood was still thumping loudly in his ears, the beats like a distant call clamouring for him to get up, get up, must get to Temeraire…

Laurence focused on the coolness of Tharkay’s hand again and the roughness of the sheets. He let exhaustion take him under. 

He woke up again at dawn, the next day, and could no longer wait. His limbs still felt rather shaky, but he felt more energised than he ever remembered being in this life. That would take some getting used to: it was odd to be reminded he had had previous lives. He wanted to be with Temeraire, knew that being with him would make this whole situation understandable, easy, normal – 

Laurence moved automatically, getting dressed without thinking. He was up and buttoning his shirt when Tharkay reappeared in the room, already dressed to go outside and holding a thermos full of coffee. 

“I had a feeling you’d be up and about soon,” he said, an eyebrow raised.

Laurence was seized by the desire to kiss him, but there was no time, no time at all. He pulled on his coat and settled with tightly pressing Tharkay’s hand in his as he passed him and headed for the door. Tharkay followed easily. 

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” He asked.

“Not at all,” replied Laurence.

Not completely accurate since something deep in his guts knew which direction he was headed, but beyond that, it was impossible to tell where they would end up. With Temeraire undoubtedly, and that was all that mattered. 

Outside, it was drizzling, freezing morning air biting at his skin. He walked briskly across the estate’s lawn, then across its small forest, not really paying attention to anything around him other than his very next step, feeling stronger and more energised as he kept moving forward. There was no telling for how long he led the way in this manner, only that eventually he arrived to a tall pavilion, distinctly designed in the Chinese style. 

Temeraire was curled up inside, frozen. Or no, not frozen, sleeping. Then stirring. Laurence did not hesitate to step close and run a hand along the black hide of Temeraire’s neck, marvelling at the warmth running all the way up his arm. 

Something settled deep within him as large blue eyes opened at last. It felt like finally coming home.

XX

As expected, the sight of the planet Lubnan enraptured Temeraire from the moment it was but a mere dot on the horizon. Even now, he could not keep his eyes off it, hardly keeping still enough to be fitted in his spacesuit as he twisted around to try and get a better view from the porthole. 

“A brand new planet, Laurence!” He said, “it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen!”

Laurence was inclined to agree. Lubnan shone gently below them, a striking burst of pastel pink and gold against the darkness of space and hopefully soon to be the new home for the Algharib, a race from the neighbouring galaxy about to lose their planet to a red giant. But to him, it paled in comparison to the sight of Temeraire, all decked out in his black and blue spacesuit and brimming with excitement. 

They had arrived twenty four hours ahead of schedule, the crew of the New Horizons had been rewarded with some down time and Laurence had immediately jumped at the chance to ask for permission to go on a space walk with Temeraire. 

Officially, he claimed it would be good practice. Both he and Temeraire had only been recently assigned to the drop teams that went scouting new planets, so it would be good for them to go over the procedure one last time in an unformal setting. Privately, his reasons were a lot more selfish. Laurence knew Temeraire would adore space walking and he wanted this very first time to be just the two of them. 

“Ready, my dear?” Asked Laurence.

“I have been ready for the past hour now,” said Temeraire, impatiently.

Still, he stretched and shook himself to test that the suit stayed in place, which it did with no problem. The inner layer of the synthetic fabric covering the body, tail and wings was covered with nanobots that monitored vitals and allowed the fabric to rest more comfortably. The suit then had two outer layers with life support and communication systems. The helmet was attached just below Temeraire’s ruff and the outfit was completed with a harness of cables to transport equipment and accommodate a crew of fifty people but which, at the moment would only include Laurence himself. 

Overall, Temeraire looked like a small spaceship and it had taken him some time before getting used to the heavy suit. As soon as they had done a practice flight in artificial vacuum however, he had declared himself comfortable, adapting with his characteristic ease. 

Temeraire inspected the cable that tethered Laurence to him one last time and then nodded, satisfied. Laurence climbed to his usual place at the neck, signalled that they were ready and Temeraire promptly glued himself to the door as they waited for the airlock to depressurise, his excitement spilling onto Laurence who also found himself leaning forward in anticipation. It was an odd feeling. In this life, Captain Laurence had visited countless new planets, but deep in his bones were still echoes of the 19th century navy captain who never even imagined such a thing possible. 

The universe was infinite, terrifying, beautiful. There was nothing more thrilling than to be exploring it with Temeraire. 

The hatch opened, releasing them into space. Laurence eased back in the familiar weightlessness as they gently started floating, but didn’t let himself drift away from Temeraire for now, sitting back and letting him take the lead. Temeraire was in no hurry, pushing them away from the landing platform and letting them drift away, his ruff raising in delight in the helmet. 

“Laurence… It’s wonderful,” he said. 

And then he was soaring forward in a large loop around the ship, spinning and corkscrewing away as if he were not piloting but simply flying as always. Temeraire took to space like he had taken to swimming and flying on earth: easily and enthusiastically. Laurence did not fully understand how the spacesuit worked, but once again the nanobots were to thank for allowing dragons to pilot themselves as easily as if they were flying. All at once, the sensation was familiar and foreign: Laurence couldn’t help but miss the wind in his hair, but the butterflies of joy in his stomach at each twist and turn remained.

Temeraire circled the ship a few times then paused to hover above the observatory pod, where Tharkay was watching them. Laurence’s heart swelled even more with affection when Tenzing waved at them cheerfully, before quickly snapping a picture of the both of them. The moment after that, both their comms chirped with an incoming request for communication, and Tharkay’s clear voice sounded in his ear, as if they were not separated by the void. 

“You might want to head planet-side,” said Tharkay, “there’s a comet incoming, Temeraire, and I think you’ll like the show.” 

With two wingbeats, Temeraire pushed them into position and settled on the hull of the starship. They did not have to wait before the comet came into view, circling around the planet, its long shimmering tail of ice and dust trailing behind it. Temeraire’s gasp of delight crackled through their communicator. 

At first, it looked like the comet would continue on its way, but at the last minute it suddenly dropped. Caught in the planet’s gravity it fell to shatter on the atmosphere, a phenomenon that had never been observed on earth but was common in this sector of space, for reasons yet unknown. They watched in silence the spectacle of its shards sinking towards Lubnan and melting one by one, like a rainfall of stars. Laurence felt Temeraire’s deep sigh through all the layers of the spacesuit and instinctively recognised from the continued silence the reminiscent mood he had slipped into. 

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I got you those lives,” said Temeraire eventually, a bit wistful. 

Laurence couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Had anyone told him in his first life that men and dragons would one day step amongst the stars, he never would have believed them.

“No this is really beyond my own imagination,” he admitted. 

Oddly, however, Laurence couldn’t say that he was surprised. Being Temeraire’s companion had pushed the limits of his imagination since day one and broadened his horizons in ways he couldn’t have done on his own. Temeraire was his dearest companion for this very reason. This merely felt like the natural continuation. 

Laurence wondered sometimes if there was something he should have done to better prepare Temeraire to grieve him, if such a thing was even possible. But what had been done was done and they could only do the most with the times they were given. Laurence knew there were many more adventures ahead for them and he was looking forward to them all.

“Do you have any regrets?” asked Temeraire, still hesitant but no longer afraid to ask. 

Laurence pushed himself away from Temeraire’s neck, grabbing onto the handholds of the dragon suit to pull himself forward until he was floating in front of Temeraire. He leaned forward, gently knocking their visors together, keeping them as close as possible in the circumstances and delighting in the way Temeraire curled his body towards him with affection. 

“None whatsoever, my dear, so long as you are with me.” 

All of his lives had orbited around Temeraire, and Laurence would not have it any other way. It was all worth it because it led to moments like this: together, at peace, and happy. 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re done!! This fic literally took me 2 years to write. I had the idea in summer 2017 (OUF) when I finished reading the series for the first time.
> 
> This is essentially 9 mini fics that I linked together with some loose overarching plot?? I don’t know what past me was thinking. It took several rewrites, and I am not happy with every detail of it because I have a feeling my writing style changed in the time it took me to put this together… But overall I had a lot of fun writing and I am very happy to have finished it!
> 
> I want to thank eldritch_boy for indulging me and listening to my rants as I was desperately putting this fic together. 
> 
> And thank you all for reading and sticking around for so long! I love you all and I hope you had fun!
> 
> Small note for my fellow law students/Lawyers that may be reading this: Esquire is a title used for lawyers in the US, so technically the lawyer here would not have Esq. as title since they are in england. But, I took liberties because to my knowledge there is no gender neutral title for lawyers in england - please let me know if that's not the case!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr: on my [ writing blog ](http://roboticnebulawrites.tumblr.com/) or on my [main blog](http://roboticnebula.tumblr.com/) !


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